To Dance until Dawn - Emma V. Leech Page 0,44

and they walked back to the carriage.

“Do you think he’ll stop at Abbeville?”

Max shrugged, feeling a burst of hope as he noticed how happy she sounded.

“I don’t know,” he said, wanting to say, I don’t care. He didn’t give a damn for Alvanly or the blessed painting, he only wanted Phoebe with him, for her to want to be here with him on this ridiculous adventure. “There’s only one way to find out, I suppose.”

“Yes,” she said as Jack opened the door for them. “Was your meal good, Jack?”

“Not bad,” he said, shrugging. “I’d rather an ale pie than mussels to be truthful, but that… what was it called, Fred?”

“Lapin à la moutarde,” Fred replied grinning, his accent surprisingly good.

“Ah, yeah. Now, that was tasty,” Jack said appreciatively, smacking his lips.

Phoebe laughed and climbed into the carriage and then groaned as she sat down.

“I’ve eaten too much again,” she said with a rueful sigh. “I ought never to have taken that second helping.”

In an instant, Max’s thoughts returned to her corset and he had to fight the desire to offer to unlace it for her.

“It was worth it,” he said, unable to help himself from recalling their conversation at her birthday dinner.

She chuckled, a surprisingly throaty sound which made his heart beat faster.

“Yes, and my corset is laced too tightly.”

Her face fell as she looked at him and he wondered what she saw in his eyes.

“Are you going to scold me again for speaking of my undergarments?” she asked warily.

Max shook his head. He felt he sat on a precipice. She was so beautiful, and he wanted her so badly, and he’d drunk just enough wine to feel a trifle reckless.

“No,” he said, aware that his voice was deeper than usual, breathless. “But if you mention it again, I give you fair warning, I will go in search of those scarlet ribbons.”

Her eyes widened in shock and he waited for her to give him a sharp set down, or turn away in disgust and pretend he’d never spoken. She did neither, only stared at him.

“Do you… do you w-want to see them, Max?”

“Of course I want to see them!” he retorted, beyond frustrated. “I’ve thought of nothing else ever since you mentioned them. I’m going out of my mind thinking about them. My every thought is consumed with the desire to see those blasted ribbons. I’ve a pulse, Phoebe, not that you seem to realise it. I’m a living man, not yet thirty, not some old fogram as you seem to think. How can you know every waiter in that blasted hotel wanted to throw themselves at your feet, and not… and not know …?”

“Know what?” she demanded, sounding flustered and truly startled.

No doubt he’d shocked her to her bones. Max shook his head and turned to look out of the window. He was an idiot, and he’d likely just made this entire journey into some hellish enterprise where she’d be uncomfortable to spend another moment alone with him.

“Know what, Max?” she asked again, her voice softer now.

He ignored it. She wasn’t that naïve. She’d figure it out.

“Max.”

He sighed and forced himself to turn and look at her, and his heart leapt to his throat and jammed there.

Christ.

“I can’t reach the ones on my corset without help,” she said, blushing furiously as she held up her skirts to reveal one shapely stocking-clad leg, and the red silk ribbon on the garter.

***

Phoebe felt as though she might burst into flames, she was so hot. It was an odd kind of heat, too, a combination of mortification and intense excitement as she saw Max’s eyes darken, heard his sharp intake of breath. That was not disgust she saw in his eyes, she knew, though perhaps her behaviour still disgusted him. She was acting like a trollop and she knew it. Suddenly ashamed, she pushed her skirts back down and looked away from him. Oh, good Lord. Would she never learn not to be so stupidly rash and impulsive? She was breathing hard, the urge to cry making her throat tight. Had she just ruined everything? Not that there had been anything to ruin, but….

She gasped as Max took her hand and discovered him sitting beside her. She had been so consumed by her own dreadful behaviour that she’d not noticed him move.

“Are you trying to drive me mad, love?” he asked, his voice soft and yet rough at the same time.

Phoebe shook her head and then, being scrupulously honest, she nodded.

“Well, yes.