Books are a form of magic,
so libraries are places of joy.
Grandma Lucy's Rules to Magic and Dating
With a devilish grin, he immediately guided them to the edge of the dance floor. They had just stepped into the group of people mingling along the perimeter of the room when the orchestra finished the final refrains of the waltz. No one seemed to notice as they wove their way to one of the room's doorways.
Cassy barely spared Alice a thought as they slipped into the dimly lit hallway, but if Alice could sneak away, so could Cassy.
Mr. Everton, or rather Graham, because she couldn't keep thinking of the man so formally after the kiss they'd shared, slipped his hand in hers as he led Cassy down the hallway. He seemed to know exactly where to go. Considering how many people were in attendance, Cassy was surprised they didn't come across anyone else on their trek through the house. Their route twisted and turned and went up a couple of steps and twisted again. She'd never been in such a large house before.
"How do you know where to go?"
Graham didn't answer. Instead, he finally stopped in front of a door and ushered her inside. The room was a breathtaking realization of every bibliophile's dream: wall to wall bookshelves overladen with leather bound tomes, a long settee finished with a rich golden fabric, and a heavy ornate desk and chair off to one side of the room. Absolutely stunning. Any minute now she could break into song and swing from the library ladder like Belle in Beauty and the Beast.
The door clicked shut behind her, followed by the scrape of a key in a lock. She spun around to face Graham. He was even more impressive than the library, and that was saying something.
"You never answered my question," she said. "Is this your home?"
Graham choked out a laugh and ducked his chin. "In my dreams. No, sadly, I am only the son of a bankrupt baron."
"Fair enough. Someone with this much wealth should have no need to steal from women."
His ever-present grin faltered. "I wish I could say it was all for a lark, but…" He shrugged. "Alas, we each have burdens we must carry."
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Why did you come with me?"
She turned away from him and walked to the nearest bookshelf. The gilt lettering glinted under the glow of the candles on the desk. "Did you come here earlier and set out the candles? Maybe even unlock the door?"
"Would you punish me for being hopeful?"
"You could have any woman in that ballroom tonight, particularly if they knew of your clandestine nightly activities. Why me?"
"I could say the same about you. I saw the way men were looking at you." His footsteps were muffled against the thick Persian rug as he closed the distance between them. Then he moved even closer, until she could feel his front against her back. Solid. Warm. His hands rested lightly on her hips. She should feel trapped. Instead, she felt deliciously tempted to lean back and encourage him to do more. His lips grazed the side of her neck. "Do you wish for me to shower you with compliments? Talk about the exquisite beauty of your complexion or the luster of your hair? Perhaps mention how the color of your eyes reminds me of the sky on a winter's morning?"
She shivered and gave into the urge to tilt her head, giving him more access to her neck. "Those all sound very practiced and bland."
He huffed out a soft laugh. "And yet, they are all true. But the real reason is I could not stop thinking about you. Your demands for promises of safety intrigued me. Your fearlessness when stepping outside of that carriage entranced me. And your kiss… Your kiss has haunted me. I am sure I have thought of nothing else since."
"Our kiss haunted me too," she whispered.
He turned her gently in his arms until they were facing one another again. "What is your given name?"
"Cassy. Short for Cassandra."
"My friends call me Gray."
"Are we friends?"
"I hope we will be so much more," he whispered. "May I kiss you, Cassy?"
Cassy laughed. "I am sorry I didn’t think to ask your permission the last time we met."
His gaze dipped to her lips, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth against hers again.
"Yes, Gray,” she whispered. “I would like you to kiss me."
The kiss started soft and sweet. A brush of lips. A whisper of breath shared between them. A tightening of his fingers on her hips. Her hands slid up his body until she could wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His warmth enveloped her. The woodsy scent of him teased her senses. He tasted of the punch that had been served at the ball and she wanted to kiss him until all that was gone and all that remained were whatever decadent flavors were uniquely his alone. As their kiss deepened, they pressed together more tightly. Her chest to his. His hips to hers. His hands moved up and down her back in long sensuous strokes as she arched against him. They were fully clothed, but the way her body flared to life was anything but innocent.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked away the minutes as they lost themselves in one another. Between those sweet kisses, they talked—about everything really. Although there were things about her life that wouldn’t make sense to him, there were a lot of things they could discuss: a love of reading, an appreciation for the outdoors, a dream of connecting with another person…
When the clock chimed the hour, the clang startled Cassy, and the kisses and the conversation ended. Gray lifted his hand to her throat and caressed her racing pulse with one of his gloved fingers. Could he feel the rush of her blood through the fabric? She thought about making a joke about him reaching for her jewels again, but it didn't feel right, seeming crass somehow.
"If we do not leave now, we will miss the dinner."
Cassy didn't care about dinner, but maybe Gray did. This was his life. His real one. She couldn't harm his standing in this world. Although she thought men likely enjoyed more liberties than women in this era, there were still probably complex social mores to follow. She would be gone in a few days, but he had to stay here.
And didn't that just feel like a punch to the gut?
Even her intuition, or magic as she was slowly starting to think of it, bucked at the idea of leaving this man behind. But what could she do? She was merely a visitor. And it wasn't like love at first sight existed. That was something that only existed in fairytales.
A bit like magic and vampires and witches were fairytales too?
Except Gray wasn't in love with her. And she couldn't figure out what she felt about him. Given everything, this couldn't be anything more than just a little interlude in their lives.
"Yes." She cleared her throat. "We should return to the ball."