Page 91 of A Lady of Means
She was interrupted by the music ending abruptly, the sound of a gong chiming from the top of the same stairs she’d entered on half an hour earlier.At the top of the stairs was Fitz, a radiant dark-haired woman beside him wearing a green dress and beaming up at him beneath her mask.Fitz waved a hand, and the footmen interspersed within the crowd, delivering more French champagne for a toast.Moria’s companions linked arms with her on either side.
“Friends, foes, we are gathered here to celebrate the next adventure of our dear Adelaide.I won’t keep you all from your enjoyment of the festivities, but my companion has some words she’d like to share.”
The man caught her attention again.Moria felt a chill titter up her spine.His profile and the bulk of his shoulders were so similar to Devyn’s.Was there a way to ask him to remove his gloves so she could see his tattoos?How wouldherecognize her?
Moria kissed her companion’s cheek.“I have to go.”
Bridget followed her vision and muttered something that sounded like “Good luck, you’ll need it if she finds out you missed her moment.”
Moria intended to bump into the man, causing him to spill his drink like she’d done to gentlemen countless other times for some end or another; but when she bumped into the man, he grabbed her wrist.
Searing hot awareness broke out all over her body.
The way his shoulders bunched beneath his coat, his purposeful strides, the way his dark hair curled at his nape.Those gorgeous lips.If it weren’t him then she needed spectacles like Noelle’s.
He turned, leading her by the wrist, and escorted her to the edge of the room.If it really were Devyn, she’d follow him anywhere.Wouldn’t she?But what if it wasn’t?
Finally, they reached an alcove, she pulled her hand free of his and untied the gold cord draped over the alcove until it fell into a curtain.He held it back with one hand and ushered her inside.
Pushing back his mask, he said, “Willow trees, and now curtained alcoves, we have got to stop meeting like this.”
Moria gave a little whimper, bottom lip catching between her teeth and her vision going wobbly with tears.She threw back her veil and launched her body into his arms as he wrapped them around her.
“Devyn, thank god!”she cried into his shoulder as he leaned down to hold her.
She’d almost forgotten how incredibly tall he was.One of his hands almost wrapped around her waist.His body was so solid and familiar and warm like the trunk of a willow tree that offered the consolation and safety she’d been searching for.The feeling of his calloused finger pads wiping at her tears was a very real sensation, not a fever dream at all.
For what felt like an eternity and not nearly long enough, the two of them stared at each other in disbelief.Due to the small alcove opening and their need for each other, there was very little of their bodies that wasn’t touching.
And still, she needed him closer.
She took him in next with her hands, roving his scarred face, his shorter hair, his nape, down to his chest and arms, like she was looking for the places he’d been put back together.She could find the places hehadn’tbeen put back together and do the job herself.
She landed on the cane in his right hand and then met his eyes.A profound ache, like he was her phantom limb, throbbed through her.
“I was hit in a skirmish outside Bajgah and taken prisoner for six weeks until General Dennie liberated us.”
He must have been in so much pain, he must have had to survive such unimaginable suffering, and here he was.And here she’d been, attending balls and getting betrothed.But he wasn’t looking at her like she was guilty of anything reprehensible, anything at all, there was love in his eyes.
Chest heaving, she said, “But you’re alive.”
His throat bobbed.“It killed me to be apart from you.”
Her hands found his lapels.“We died the same death.Come here.Let me bring you back to life.”
She drew him in with her mouth, his lips crashing over hers possessively.She wanted to possess him.She wanted tobepossessed, by him, by this moment, by madness; she didn’t care, just not possessed anymore by grief and the unforgiving hands of fate.
She pulled at her skirts, one of her legs wrapping around his.She pressed her body closer, he let out a little groan that she could taste inside her own mouth, mingled with the taste of champagne.This was where he’d belonged, she’d been saying it since before he left, and him trying to save the world and her trying to save her image had only caused suffering and heart ache.
No longer.
“I love you,” she cried into his mouth.
He was holding her, he was kissing her back like she was the one who was a phantom, he was touching her.She wondered if he’d dreamed about holding her like she’d dreamed about being held.
“Still?”he pulled back to ask.
She ran a gentle hand over the scar on his face.“Is this why you didn’t immediately come to me and tell me that you were alive?”
