by Erica Ridley
He stopped in alarm. “Do you want to sit down?”
She gripped his hands tighter and fought for calm. “No.”
He gave another encouraging smile. “You can do this.”
“I don’t think I can do this.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But maybe we can do this.”
“I wish I could kiss you,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re especially kissable when you’re puffed up like a determined adventurer.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll puff you up like a—”
He motioned toward their feet.
They were doing it. They had done it. They were out on the ice!
“I told you,” he said arrogantly. “You’re braver than you think.”
She was so glad she was out here with him. That he’d helped her conquer a demon. “How did you know?”
“How brave and competent you are? You’ve been completely independent for the past six years.” He skated them around a fallen twig. “You didn’t just learn to fend for yourself. You taught yourself mechanical engineering. You give tours to total strangers. And you even agreed to matchmake a gentleman you didn’t like as a favor for a friend.”
“I didn’t appreciate your presumptuous mouth.” She sent a haughty stare down the bridge of her nose. “The rest of you was somewhat attractive.”
He leered at her. “How do you like my mouth now?”
She tried to hide a smile. “Only when it’s kissing mine.”
He glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “Tell me when they’re not looking.”
Gloria smacked his arm. “Not here, you daft—”
Her breath caught. She had let go of his hands and was skating on her own. Keeping up out of her own volition. She was doing it!
“I’m skating,” she said in wonder. A fit of giggles threatened to overtake her. She grinned up at him. “I’m skating!”
Victory coursed through her. She grabbed for his hands not because she needed them, but because she wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. He had made this happen.
Pride shone in his eyes. “Are you sure I can’t kiss you?”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a laugh. “The way I’m feeling right now, I might do it.”
He grinned back. “See? You do like adventure! Is there any chance of talking you into getting on a boat with me next month?”
All her joy evaporated as sharp knives of reality crashed back over her. “Next month?”
“Next week, I mean.” He rolled his eyes at his error. “I don’t know how time goes so fast. One minute you’re in a high-sprung racing phaeton and the next you’re on a slow boat to India.”
India.
The ice seemed to tilt. She stumbled blindly.
He caught her. “You’re all right. I won’t let you fall.”
No. He already had. Gloria’s throat went dry. She had been wrong. The danger didn’t come from the ice at all.
It came from the gentleman who held her hands in his.
“—a bucket of good fortune,” he was saying. “I’ve been dreaming of this trip for years. When the man whose travel journals I so greatly admired agreed to act as my personal guide, it was a dream come true. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that’s finally going to happen.”
Gloria’s stomach heaved. She knew exactly what was going to happen. Once he left, he would never be back.
The sea would swallow him whole.
“You bought passage?” she made herself ask. “Y-you have a ticket already?”
He patted his jacket pocket. “Won’t let it out of my sight. I’m not looking forward to a six-month voyage, but I can’t wait to step foot on land. The subcontinent has so much to explore. Who knows how long it might take! I’ll secure return passage once I know what port I’ll leave from.”
Or never come back at all.
India tended to have that effect.
Her chest grew tight. In the best-case scenario, the ferry ride alone meant he would be gone for over a year. Her throat stung. Whether he realized it or not, he was never coming back to Christmas. He’d said it himself: there was too much world to explore.
“Can we leave?” she whispered. “I’m done with the ice.”
He gazed at her with obvious affection. “Anything you want.”
She could not even offer a brittle smile in return.
He could give her nothing she wanted. She had only herself to blame. From the moment of his arrival, she’d always known he planned to leave.
Now she knew it was going to destroy her.
Chapter 12
“It’s Miss Quincy’s turn!”
The group of vivacious carolers were seated in a large circle in the middle of the local jeweler’s drawing room. Christopher grinned at Gloria from the other side of the boisterous circle.
As soon as Miss Quincy had been properly blindfolded and moved to the center, the entire company rose and scrambled to new chairs. This time, Christopher ensured he took a seat next to Gloria.
“Your friends share your disreputable tendency to completely ignore rules,” he whispered. “I distinctly spied Miss Borland peeking beneath her blindfold.”
Gloria’s smile was wicked. “All’s fair in war and Blind Man’s Bluff.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That is not how that saying goes.”
“Shhh.” The others shushed them.
After exchanging one last grin, Christopher and Gloria straightened their spines and made themselves perfectly still.
One of her friends dashed forward to tap the Blind Man and run away. The others grinned at each other in anticipation of great fun.
At first, Christopher had not known what to make of Gloria’s invitation to tonight’s gathering. She had seemed far more shaken than he had hoped by the trip to the ice-skating pond. When they arrived here tonight, she had seemed distant. Disappointed.
He had pushed her too far. Guilt gnawed at him. He had wanted to prove to her that she could expand her horizons, not accidentally encourage her to close her walls tighter.
But over the past hour of parlor games and spiced wine and rowdy friends, she seemed to forcibly push away whatever was bothering her. The smile slowly returned to her face, and the teasing tone to her voice. He was glad to have her back.
She pointed at the current Blind Man and whispered, “Go tag him!”
As Christopher darted across the room, tapping the newest Blind Man’s arm as he passed, the rest of the company scurried to exchange seats with each other.
After waving his arms about for a moment, the Blind Man stumbled in Christopher’s direction and managed to knock his shoulder with the back of his hand with a suspicious lack of false starts.
Christopher shook his head. Cheaters, every one of them.
“Pringle’s turn!” roared the crowd.
He rose to his feet and crossed to the center of the circle. As the previous Blind Man began to cover Christopher’s eyes with the blindfold, he forced his cheeks into the widest smile possible. He kept the manic expression in place as long as he could.
Only when the brush of a hand passed behind his elbow did he drop the exaggerated smile and allow his cheeks to sag. The corner of the handkerchief dipped just enough to allow him to spy Gloria racing to take a seat amongst the others.
“I see you peeking!” The warm peal of Gloria’s delighted laugh warmed his heart. “Did everyone see that? He broke a rule!”
Christopher held out his arms in front of him as if the blindfold weren’t sliding down his face and pantomimed a wooden stumble in her direction.
She was laughing too hard to hide from his outstretched hands.
“Fair to say he got her,” someone shouted in glee.
“I think that’s enough Blind Man’s Bluff for one night,” their host said with a chuckle.
“Back to the wine,” someone else called out.
A resounding cheer sounded at once.
Christopher ripped the blindfold from his head and tossed it up
on one of the newly vacated chairs.
Gloria was staring up at him with an inscrutable expression.
“May I fetch you a glass of wine?” he asked.
She shook her head and rose to her feet. “The stars are out. Walk me home?”
“With pleasure.” He would take her anywhere she wished to go.
They took their leave from the high-spirited company and made their way out into the silent night.
“Did you enjoy the party?” Gloria asked as she curved her fingers about his arm.
“Very much,” he admitted.
Christopher had met many of the tourists that came and went from the castle, but after spending a few occasions with Gloria’s friends he began to notice that not all of the locals stayed local. Some of her friends had seasonal homes elsewhere. For others, their seasonal home was the one here in Christmas.
He loved the idea of having a close circle of friends, yet having the freedom to flow in or out of that circle as one wished.
Gloria pointed up at the sky. “That one looks like a Venetian gondola.”
“It looks like Lacaille’s Reticulum to me,” he said with a chuckle. “You’d be able to tell the difference if you visited the Continent.”
“I’ll never leave Christmas,” she said without breaking stride. “Besides, I’ve always been able to tell the difference between the stars.” She began to point. “There’s Auriga and Columba and Lepus...”
“Wait.” He came to a complete stop. “You do know the constellations?”
Her eyes twinkled up at him. “Of course. Don’t you?”
“But you… I…” He could not even form words.
She tugged him to keep walking.
“I learned the stars long before I learned devices,” she said. “I’m our town’s resident expert. You met me during the second lap of the sky-walk, where we use our imaginations. On the first lap, which you missed, my group learns traditional constellation names and scientific star designations.”
Heat climbed the back of his neck and he groaned out loud. “I am the worst blackguard.”
“You did make insulting assumptions about my intelligence, competence, and general fitness for speaking to children.” She tossed him a pointed glance. “And delivered your public judgment in the most mortifying way possible.”
Good God, he had been a fool.
“I am appalled by my ‘gentleman astronomer’ prejudices.” He winced. “I don’t know how you can forgive me.”
“I already accepted your apology,” she reminded him. “Back when I agreed to be your matchmaker.”
“I didn’t realize what I was apologizing for back then,” he said. “Now I do. I’m sorry.”
As they approached her doorstep, she paused and gave him a half smile. “Madge pointed out that I may have been a wee bit severe on you, too.”
He felt himself brighten. “Madge likes me?”
Gloria opened the front door and gestured inside. “You don’t see her anywhere, do you? She’s hoping you’ll compromise me.”
“So am I,” he said fervently. “So am I.”
She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder. “I’m still considering it.”
“What?” He chased after her. “You’ve been having carnal thoughts about me?”
“I’ll let you know when I decide.” She pressed her finger to his lips and turned away.
His head swam. Or maybe that was his blood, rushing to his trousers at once.
Christopher was thrilled not to be the only one hoping for pleasurable adventures in their future.
So thrilled that he belatedly realized he was still wearing his hat and coat. He jogged back to the front door to place his outerwear on their customary spot on the rack, then returned to the kitchen to visit the plum pudding.
It wasn’t there.
He swung his gaze up to the ceiling in confusion. The hook was there; the pudding was not. He turned in a slow circle, darting searching glances about the kitchen. One hook. Zero puddings. A mystery.
“Where’s the pudding?” he called out.
Gloria appeared in the corridor but did not immediately answer.
A strange frustration gnawed at him.
“I come in, I hang my coat, I bid ‘good day’ to the pudding.” He motioned up toward the empty hook. “No pudding. Did you eat it?”
She crossed her arms in silence.
“Did you give it away?”
She lifted her brows.
“Did you hide it from me?” he asked in exasperation.
Gloria tilted her head. “Maybe.”
“What on earth for?” he demanded.
She stepped closer.
“This feeling you’re experiencing, this lack of equilibrium… The sensation that something is missing, that something is wrong, that something is not as it should be… That a part of your life is incomplete and no longer fits? That’s how I feel when you take away something comforting to me. Something familiar.” She paused before adding, “Amplified by a thousand.”
“It’s a pudding,” he told her. “I was surprised, perhaps, but it didn’t leave a hole in my heart.”
“It made a small one,” she said. “Just for a second. Think back. You had a ritual. Something familiar that made you happy. And I took it away. Why do you think you cared?”
It was more than a ritual, he realized. Her cottage had begun to feel like a home they shared together. The empty spot left by the pudding made him realize how big of a hole she would leave if he lost her, too. He had not liked the sensation at all.
Before he could answer, she ducked out of the corridor for a moment and then reappeared with the pudding.
“It was in the observatory,” she said as she hung it back on the hook. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I felt like the observatory was more ‘ours’ than the kitchen. So, I thought you might like to keep our pudding close.”
He wanted to keep her close for as long as he could. He longed to share much more with her than pudding.
Heart pounding, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. This time, he was not thinking with his shaft or even his brain, but something deeper. More powerful. Every time his tongue touched hers, an answering flicker of something stronger, something sharper, something infinitely more terrifying, unfurled in his chest.
He wanted more than kisses. More, even, than a night of torrid passion. He wanted to know that every time he reached for her, she would be there. If the disappearance of a pudding made him dread the loss of a single shared moment with her, what the devil was he going to do without her on a six-month trip to India?
It was the opportunity he’d dreamed of. He would never turn it down. But it would no longer be a dream come true if he couldn’t bring her with him. She was beginning to feel as much a part of him as his own soul. The question was whether she felt the same.
He lifted his mouth from hers. His pulse galloped out of control.
“I would love to show you the world.” He hesitated, unsure how to put his thoughts into words, or what exactly he intended to propose. Perhaps they could figure it out together. “How would you feel about joining me on an adventure?
Her gaze did not rise to meet his. “Maybe someday.”
Not the enthusiastic response he’d been hoping for. He tried to take heart. Someday was not the same as No. There was still time to change her mind.
“You should see her trunk,” came a dry voice.
He leapt away from Gloria. “Madge! I didn’t see you.”
“I hide even better than pudding.” She pointed down the hall as she walked away. “Bedchamber is that way.”
“What the devil is she talking about?” Christopher swung his startled gaze toward Gloria.
Her cheeks were bright red. “I’ll show you.”
He followed her to an open door at the end of the corridor. Inside the airy chamber was a tall wardrobe, a demure bed, and a large wooden trunk.
Gloria retrieved a key from the wardrobe. It quickly u
nlocked the trunk. She gave him a long, searching look and then flipped open the lid. He braced himself.
The trunk appeared to contain a variety of gowns, an array of shoes, a selection of bonnets, and at least two lacy parasols.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
She let out a long sigh. “Venice. Madge and I packed for Venice. Our itinerary changes every few weeks and we repack. We’re thinking of going to Sicily next.”
The trunk took on new meaning.
“You pick a place,” he said slowly. “You read everything you can about it, gather the ideal supplies in order to have the perfect trip, carefully pack each item in your trunk… and then you don’t go.”
She blinked a glassy sheen from her eyes and nodded. “It’s our ritual.”
It wasn’t a ritual. It was a cage.
His chest tightened.
This was the true Gloria. Ice-skating and phaeton rides were as far outside her comfort area as she would ever go. He liked her more with every passing hour and it didn’t matter. This was as close as she would let herself come to adventure.
“Here,” he said. “I’ll help you pack for Sicily.”
She began pulling items from the trunk and placing them in careful piles atop her bed.
Day dress, evening dress, cape, spencer. Hair brush, tooth powder, tiny soaps.
“Where in Sicily will you and Madge be traveling?” he asked.
Her eyes went wide. “Everywhere?”
“Then you’re missing a few items.” He opened both doors to her wardrobe and peered inside. “You need a bathing outfit for the beaches. And the warmest fur you own if you plan to scale Etna.”
“Does it snow there like here?” she asked as she added a thick scarf to the trunk.
“Not year-round. But, yes, there can be ice on the mountaintop and hot sun at the beach on the same day.”
“It sounds amazing,” she whispered.
He handed her a pair of dancing slippers to add to the trunk. “It is amazing. You’ll love it.”
Except she wouldn’t. This trunk would never leave her bedchamber.
His heart sank.
He couldn’t stay, and she wouldn’t leave. They weren’t a perfect match at all. They couldn’t even make a devil’s bargain. She wouldn’t try to force him to give up his love of travel, and he would never tear her from the comfort of her home.