Page 30 of With Love in Sight
He got up onto one elbow and looked down into her face. Her eyes were soft and luminous in the moonlight, a small smile playing about her mouth as she gazed back at him. And then, because he could not have stopped himself if he had tried, he leaned down and kissed her, softly.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed against his lips, returning the pressure of his mouth. And though he felt desire trail along his skin, making him hot in every part of him, he felt something else as well. Something he did not want to look at too closely but that was there nonetheless, making his heart race like mad.
He pulled back and smiled. “Then we’d best make our last night one to remember.”
• • •
“You are mad.”
It was the day of the masquerade ball, and the entire Knowles house was in an uproar, with more guests coming in from London for the occasion than the manor should rightly hold. Not long ago, Imogen had received a message from Caleb instructing her to meet him in the storage room at the top of the house. She stood there now, surrounded by hulking pieces of furniture covered in sheets, paintings of Knowles ancestors propped against the walls, and wooden chests no doubt filled with all manner of treasure. At any other time she would have grabbed Mariah and dragged her up here, and they would have spent a wonderful afternoon exploring. But instead she was staring in disbelief at the bundle Caleb held in his arms, all sapphire blue silk and silver lace.
“Madness is a matter for interpretation,” he said haughtily. “I promised you a night to remember, and never say I go back on my promises. This,” he said, holding the diaphanous bundle out to her, “is the key to it all.”
“But I already have a costume.”
He lifted one eyebrow at her.
“I do,” she insisted.
“Tell me,” he drawled, “who picked it out?”
Imogen flushed. “My mother,” she muttered reluctantly.
“And what exalted figure does she have you dressing as?” he prompted.
She grumbled something unintelligible.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“A sheep,” she admitted with a grimace.
He stared at her a long moment, slack-jawed. “A sheep.”
She heaved a deep sigh. “Yes. Mariah is a bucolic shepherdess, and I am…her…sheep.”
They stared at one another for a long moment. And then they both burst into laughter.
“Well,” he stated as their chuckles died away, “you will no longer be a sheep. In fact, Miss Imogen Duncan is no longer going to the masquerade.”
She frowned in confusion at him. “But you just said—”
He held up one hand. “You are quite the smartest woman I know, so please strive to keep up. Miss Imogen Duncan is not attending. She will be in bed, fighting off a lingering cough. There will, however, be a mysterious woman there in a beautiful blue gown.”
Her eyes widened as the magnitude of what he was saying sank in. “Oh no!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, yes.” He pressed the gown into her hands. “I’ve taken care of everything. Here are the shoes, and the mask.” He plunked both atop the teetering pile she was holding. “I have a lady’s maid ready and waiting to do some minor adjustments. She shall be there as well later this evening to help you into the gown and do up your hair. All you need do is fake a cough and plead off going.” He stepped back, giving her a smile that was very much cat-that-licked-the-cream.
Her mouth worked for a while silently, until she finally made out faintly, “You are mad.”
“I believe we have already established that. Now, off you go. She will be waiting for you.”
With that he shooed her away. She went obediently, her mind in a confused haze. Before she knew it she was in front of her room. How she had gotten there, she never could quite figure out. And then the door was thrown open from inside by the borrowed maid and there was no more time to think.
She was poked and prodded, the strange gown pinned and tucked. It was whisked off of her, and the maid was telling her she’d have it done in a trice. And once again she was alone, and faced with the significance of what she’d agreed to.
Well, “agreed to” wasn’t necessarily the correct terminology. She hadn’t agreed to anything. But the maid was off now doing the necessary alterations. She couldn’t very well have all that work go to waste.
And truly, did she really want to say no to Caleb, to put on her sheep costume and tamely go down like—well, like a sheep?
