He rubbed his neck, amazed that he felt like punching a fictional man in the nose for making Eleanor laugh.
What the bloody hell was wrong with him?
He pulled at his cravat, of a sudden so hot he couldn’t catch his breath. He dodged his way around all the marriage-minded mamas parading their daughters in front of him like prizes. He didn’t give a damn if he acted rude.
He needed air.
***
Eleanor leaned on the balcony railing, frowning up at the moon, and tried to ignore the painful fact that for the third night in a row, she’d stood in the same exact room as Thomas and he’d had no clue. She’d seen his focus slip from one blonde to another, but it never fell on her. She’d like to think he scanned the crowd for her. Or to believe the reason he left with drooped shoulders every night was due to the failure of said mission.
But she wasn’t a fool.
He had no reason to search her out. Their business had concluded the night she left him alone in a hotel. She refused to step into his vision, no matter how much she wished to see him again. Even if she cried herself to sleep every night as she remembered his arms around her.
No, it wouldn’t do to embarrass them both by begging him to hold her one last time. She’d been blending into shadows for all her life—why should she stop now?
Unfortunately, she had no pressing need to confront him. The condom had done its job. Her monthlies had come right on time last week. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t shed a tear or two. Part of her had hoped to be required to find him. To show her face again.
But alas, no such luck.
A footfall sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn around. Whoever it was would pass by soon enough. Why waste the energy for mere courtesy?
“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?” Thomas’s voice washed over her, inciting a riot of emotions inside her all at once.
She gripped the white railing tighter, terrified to face him. Anxious over whether he’d recognize her with clothes on.
Her stomach lurched as she pictured him smiling as he passed her, none the wiser that she’d shared his bed a week ago. Yet, she also remained terrified he’d recognize her and denounce her in front of the ton. Her heart beat deafeningly loud in her ears, drowning out the sound of anything but her fear. How could he not hear it? His steady footsteps faltered and then stopped altogether. She closed her eyes and prayed for mercy.
Please, God, let him—
A swift intake of breath, and then, “Excuse me, would you mind turning around, miss?”
She gulped in the crisp air, the world spinning and tipping to the side in front of her. Did he recognize her? Did he know who she was? Refusing to turn around and find out, she stepped deeper into the shadows.
He didn’t take the unspoken hint, instead grabbing her elbow to spin her around. When he grasped her chin and tilted her face up, she slammed her eyes shut and bit back a groan. The moonlight shone through her closed lids, and she squeezed them tighter, not willing to see the anger and disappointment in his face as he realized his temptress had been none other than a spinster he’d overlooked for years.
And a boring one at that.
“Look at me.” His curt voice made her flinch. She shook her head and jerked her chin in an attempt to free herself. He tightened his grip on her jaw, refusing to let her go. “I said look at me, Eleanor.”
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips, giving in to his demand. When she met his eyes, he groaned and brushed his thumb across her lip. “It’s you.”
“Y-Yes.” Swallowing past her swollen throat, she said, “It’s me.”
“You left me.” His mouth tightened and then he moaned, crushing his lips to hers. She gasped, taken aback all over again at the hunger he woke in her, and fought his hold. If he continued kissing her in such a fashion, her skirts would end up over her head within the minute.
He pulled her closer, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and before she knew it…she was kissing him back. She no longer pushed him away, but instead clasped him closer. As she had feared, she was swept away by torrential passion and helpless to fight it.
He dragged his lips away, frowning down at her with a harsh line to the same mouth that had moments ago been driving her insane with want. She blinked up at him, trying to recollect why he’d wish to scowl at her instead of kissing her some more.
He gripped her upper arms, shaking her gently. “Why? Why did you use me, then leave without telling me who you were?” His eyes flashed in anger, but his voice cracked. “How could you just leave me?”
She licked her parched lips. “Why would I stay?” Her voice rose above polite volume, despite the knowledge that the ton would devour her alive if they overheard her. “We went there for a night of passion. Both of us went so far as to travel forward in time, with the help of Madame Eve, to ensure absolute privacy. Where, in all the secrecy, was there a clause stating I must tell you my identity?”
Thomas shook her again, and she shrugged out of his grip. Her feet got caught up in her dress, and she hit the ground on her bottom with a loud whoosh of her skirts.
How undignified.
“You,” he pointed down at her, “told me you were from the ‘modern times,’ and as such, I had no cause to worry about ruining you. You lied.”
She shrugged from her seat on the ground. “You still don’t need to worry. No one will ever want to marry me. And I'm not with child. The only people who know anything about us are me and you. And Madame Eve. She won’t tell our story, though.”
His face turned bright red, and he squatted down beside her to thump his chest. “I know. Every time I see you, I’ll picture you naked beneath me. When I see your lips, I’ll feel them on mine. When your br**sts tease me from your corset,” his gaze dropped to her heaving bosom, “I’ll ache to taste them in my mouth once more. I will not forget.”
Her cheeks heated, and she waved her fan in front of her face. She glanced behind him to ensure they were alone. “Shh. Someone will hear you.”
“I don’t care. I’ve been searching for you nonstop this past week, and I have no intention of letting you out of my sight ever again.” He stood, grabbed her waist, and lifted her to an upright position. His fingers burned through the fabric, reminding her of what she knew all too well—how much she wanted him to touch her again. Love her.
As he dragged her to the French doors that led into the ballroom, she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts. Couples whirled by the glass, unaware of the battle going on in the darkness of the balcony.