from the party. As I sat, I stared at a lake surrounded by trees. More lights twinkled, creating a make-believe world where anything was possible.
“What can I get you?” he asked, still standing.
I pushed the dress’s skirt aside, making room on the bench. “Maybe we could just sit a moment.”
A sigh came from his lips as his knees bent slowly to sit beside me. “I’d like that. This” —he gestured behind us— “isn’t my scene.”
“Mine either,” I admitted. “Why are you here?”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You could say I’m here because of work, but mostly, I’m helping a friend. You?”
“No work for me.” I looked down at my hands as I noticed the sparkles in the dress. “More make-believe.” I grinned. “I can’t believe I’m here...and I’m also helping a friend.”
“Whoever your friend is, they should be ashamed for leaving you alone.”
“He warned me.”
As the man grinned, flakes of gold and yellow danced in his dark orbs, like the twinkling lights around the dark, glassy lake.
“So you are accompanied?” he asked.
“Yes and no.”
His brow furrowed in question.
“My date isn’t really a date. Like you said, helping a friend.”
He reached out and took one of my hands in his. Even more so than when he touched my back, the contact was electric—a kinetic link, exhilarating my senses.
I stared at the sheer beauty in our contrast. His hand was dark and large enough to swallow mine. Mine pale yet strong.
Have fun with it—Alex Demetri’s advice returned.
Taking a deep breath, I reached out with my other hand, surrounding his one. Our fingers instinctively curled around each other’s. When I looked up, his stare was on me, seeing me, studying me. With nothing more than his gaze, my breathing shallowed, my nipples hardened, and my flesh warmed.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice was deep and breathy.
Letting go of his hand with one of mine, I lifted my palm to his cheek—smooth and warm. My stare went to his full lips, imagining what they would feel like upon my own. “So are you.”
“Tell me your name.”
I loved the way his mouth moved as he spoke and the way he demanded while also asking.
“Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you, and this isn’t like me. But” —he leaned closer, the fullness of his body dwarfing mine— “I don’t want you to stop me.”
My cheeks rose as I again stared into his eyes. “How will my name stop that?”
“Because with your name, I’ll be able to properly inquire, like the gentleman my granny tried to raise.” Before I could reply, he continued, each word bringing our lips closer. “You don’t want her to be disappointed in me, do you?”
The long earrings dangled against my neck as I shook my head. “Lorna.”
“Lorna, may I kiss you?”
Something within my stomach twisted, a rippling of anticipation such as I’d only read about. As heat flooded the area between my legs, I pressed my thighs closer. “Yes.”
I fluttered my eyelids shut as his large hand snaked around my waist, pulling me toward him. In that awkward moment, we moved our faces from side to side. Taking one finger, he tilted my chin until finally our lips connected. Such as the striking of a match, a spark ignited, not into a flame but the promise of a blaze capable of incinerating this mansion and all of Bishop’s Landing.
Sitting taller, I pressed myself against him. Within the confines of the corset, my breasts flattened against his hard chest. His touch roamed, claiming more than my lips. Upward he roved, to my neck, the sensitive skin behind my ear, and twining my long red ringlets around his fingers.
When we pulled away, we were left gasping for air, staring at one another.
Quickly, I stood, wobbling on my heels and filling my lungs.
The mystery man reached out and steadied me, our fingers again intertwining. “I’m sorry, Lorna.”
My head shook. “No, for what?”
Slowly, he stood. Even in the tall heels, I felt tiny in his presence. Our contrast was like that of magnets, the undeniable attraction of two opposite poles.
Who was he?
Mason said there were fires on all levels of his metaphoric chessboard.
Could this man be after something from Mason or Mr. Sparrow?
Did he know the Constantines?
In contrast, I was no one, simply a companion for a poor boy from the South Side of Chicago.
“I didn’t mean...” he began.
I reached for his hand and smiled. “Please don’t apologize. I liked...that was...” I sighed, embarrassed by my sudden inability to articulate. “It was