Face softening, Sarah watched his throat work as he carefully lifted the chain. His jaw tightened, fingers sliding down the length of it until he held the pendant in his palm between them.
“You kept it,” he breathed. When he looked up to meet her eyes, his were glistening with tears.
Sarah braced herself, expecting the sight of the necklace he’d given her to make his decision to leave so much more difficult.
His expression flickered between pain and amazement. But then a heart-stopping smile curved Will’s lips, the troubled look leaving his handsome features altogether. “All this time,” he whispered, then gave a quiet, choking laugh of elation. He looked astonished as his eyes searched her face. “All this time, you haven’t forgotten.”
She shook her head, tears pricking her own eyes. How long had it been since he’d felt worthwhile, like he was something to be cherished? Her heart ached at the idea that he had assumed she’d forgotten about him, that he had thought he was unworthy of the love she longed to give him.
“You’re impossible to leave behind, Will,” she croaked, wiping the corner of her eye. He smiled into her gaze. She went on, being careful with her words. “Yes, Damien is a nice man, and I’m pretty sure he’s loaded.” He winced, and she softened her tone, gently laying her hand on his chest. “But you’re the one in my heart, and nothing on this earth could replace you, especially not something as fleeting as social standing or money.”
She searched his eyes, needing him to understand, and she fully comprehended the truth of her own words as she spoke. “When it comes to the two of you, I choose you, no matter what may come of it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but then the soft smile faded from his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a convulsive swallow as his hand slid up to cup the side of her neck again with trembling fingers. When his head dipped, Sarah felt the pulse in his fingers throbbing against her own at the base of her throat. She froze, knowing he was going to kiss her and feeling unprepared as all tangible thoughts dropped out of her mind.
Will paused when his face was a breath away. Eyes focused on her mouth, he whispered hoarsely, “Would you mind very much—might I—” His mental functions seemed as hindered as hers, and he appeared unable to finish his question. He waited for her permission in tense silence. She managed to nod, watching as his lids lowered until they were nearly closed.
He pressed his lips softly to hers, his eyes seeming to drift closed on their own accord the moment they touched. The feathery brush of Will’s stubble against her skin sent a shiver through her. She stood stock-still, terrified to move and break this moment as she tried to memorize everything about her first kiss. But she found that her mind couldn’t stay focused as Will’s thumb twitched over the erratic pulse thumping under her jaw, and her lids fluttered closed.
Sarah pressed her other palm against his chest, imagining that she could feel his heart beating in sync with hers. His fingers tightened around the back of her neck, and he shifted his head to the side, pulling her closer. Toes curling, Sarah tipped her own head back and unconsciously parted her lips.
Will broke the kiss abruptly, his breaths coming shallow and quick. For a moment she thought she had done something wrong and quickly dropped her hands as her face warmed. But then she felt the way his fingers on her neck trembled and glanced up to meet his glazed look. He appeared as affected as she felt, and Sarah realized that he might have felt the need to break the kiss, because from his expression, it certainly didn’t appear that he’d wanted to.
She felt appreciation for his sense of mind when she’d had none, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment that it had to end. Will seemed to sense that.
Sucking in a wobbly breath, he forcefully tipped his lips into a wry grin. “Sorry,” he said huskily. Seeming embarrassed at his transparency, he cleared his throat, reluctantly pulling his hand back and fidgeting in place. His gaze shifted shyly from her face to the floor, though it always returned to search her expression in uncertainty. It all seemed so new to him.
Sarah felt her fluttery stomach sink as she breathed, “Jade was lying, wasn’t she?” But the answer was already clearly spelled out by his shy embarrassment.
He nodded, his look turning to one of regret. “I wanted to tell you. That was one of the reasons why I came to you that day—I wanted to tell you the truth. And then again in the tree, but the timing seemed wrong.” Will sighed. “I was upset that you thought I would compromise my morals like that, let alone betray you in such a way. I was going to let you talk it out and then set the record straight, but by the time I realized that my silence was only affirming your beliefs and hurting you, I was too late to stop you.” He looked suddenly shame-faced. “It was childish.”
“I jumped to conclusions,” Sarah apologized, voice soft. “I should never have believed Jade so quickly.” After a pause, she grinned ruefully. “Since we were both in the wrong, does that mean we can start fresh?”
Will’s gaze landed on the circular pendant, and she knew he wasn’t seeing just a silver tree, but a promise. He smiled softly, meeting her gaze. “A new beginning.”
~Chapter 37~
They left their quiet corner shortly after that, and Sarah sensed it had something to do with their kiss. She wasn’t concerned about Will’s intentions toward her, but he seemed determined to act the gentleman. She smiled, knowing he’d never been anything but.
Side by side, they walked down the hall, their knuckles brushing on occasion. Sarah glanced over at him the second time it happened and caught him smiling faintly at the ground.
They walked into the ballroom and stood just outside the doorway, both feeling reluctant to join the others. Sarah looked up and met Will’s gaze. Neither seemed to know what to say, and she couldn’t hide her shy, awkward smile, which only caused Will’s eyes to darken.
“We never finished our dance,” he said lowly. Sarah felt a thrill straight down to her toes. Nodding, she took his hand; she needed no further encouragement.
Will pulled her close, drawing them in small, tight circles. They didn’t join the others but stayed at the edge of the gathering, making it all seem that much more intimate. Not that Sarah would have noticed them, anyway.
Eyes constantly on her face, Will moved them to the sound of the stringed instruments, the gentle hand pressed against her back effortlessly guiding her. Sarah fought for something to say, but for the first time, she realized that she didn’t need to break the silence to feel comfortable. She felt like she was floating as his strong arms held her up, spinning her in circles and helping her sway to the music. Neither wore a mask, and Will’s contentedness and the adoration burning in his eyes was palpable, and she didn’t bother to veil her own emotions. She couldn’t remember a time when they had both been so honest with each other.
A reminder of reality diminished the spark of naïve hope she was clinging to, but it wasn’t snuffed out completely. A thousand years separated the two of them, and she knew it was complete foolishness for her to allow herself to believe that this could work out like the fairytale romance she wished it to be. She would be lying to herself if she thought that one dance wouldn’t change a thing, that it wouldn’t draw them closer or make it harder for her to go home.
Time seemed to hang over her head, a constant reminder that followed her wherever she went, telling her that her duration here could only last for so long. But then there was always the question of whether now was all they had. Sarah knew that if she walked away, she would always look back on this moment, this opportunity to be close to him, and regret never taking the chance to hope.
She refused to be afraid to fall anymore.
She shuffled closer to him, and Will smiled down at her, making her heart skip. She realized that they were slowing just before they came to a halt.
“Sarah,” he whispered. His eyes searched her face.
She swallowed. “Yes?”
His head dipped slowly, angling to better see her eyes as toe-curling wa
rmth flooded his own.
“There you are!” Sarah jolted, feeling the arm around her waist slide away. Turning, she spotted Damien striding through the crowd toward them, mask in place. She half expected Will to slink into the shadows, but to his credit he stood his ground.
“That took far longer than I—” Damien slowed his steps when he finally noticed Will standing beside her. “Good evening,” he said, smiling in a friendly manner.
Sarah blinked, eyes flitting nervously between the two. Then she thought to introduce them. “Oh, uh, Damien, this is Will Taylor.”
“Will?” A spark of recognition lit Damien’s eyes, and he looked pleased. She wondered how he would have heard that name until he clarified, “The blacksmith?”
“Yes,” Will answered. It was all he offered.
Damien smiled, unaffected by Will’s aloofness. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And thank you for keeping Lady Sarah company.” He turned his hundred-watt smile on her. “But do you mind if I steal her away for a dance?”
Sarah wasn’t sure how to answer, so she glanced up anxiously at Will, taking her cue from him. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she thought his nostrils might have flared once. But then he nodded his head. Turning his back on Damien, he took her hand and bent down to plant a warm, lingering kiss on the back of it. He straightened, mouthing the word tomorrow before releasing her and moving into the crowd.
Mechanically, she allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor by Damien, her eyes scanned the gathering distractedly. Her companion held her close and spun her about the room, but her gaze continued to sweep the crowd. Her heart skipped when she spotted Will watching them. Damien chose that moment to lean down and whisper something unintelligible against her ear. She blinked, and Will slipped out the exit.
For the next few hours, Sarah and Damien danced and talked, which was only interrupted when he introduced her to some of the other lords and ladies before guiding her back to the dance floor. He was so easy-going and talkative that Sarah found herself smiling and laughing on occasion, though she quickly became distracted. She tried to pay attention to what he was saying and lose herself in the party, but her heart and mind were elsewhere.
****
It was late when he escorted her back to her room, and Sarah was exhausted, and not just from hours of dancing. The emotions of the day bowed her shoulders, and she knew she hadn’t been very good company toward the end of the night. But she kept thinking of Will, wondering what he was doing and what he had thought when he saw her and Damien dancing. And then she remembered their kiss and the way he’d held her, and her brain became suddenly useless.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Damien observed as they walked down the hallway. She glanced over at him, feeling terrible for stringing him along with her poor company all evening. But he didn’t look upset, only vaguely amused and curious.
“Sorry if I seemed . . . distracted.” She anxiously rubbed the ivory ribbon between her fingers, watching her mask sway back and forth by her knees as she searched for a way to excuse her moodiness.
They stopped outside her door. Cocking his head, Damien’s eyes swept her features. “Something troubles you.” She nodded reluctantly, then stopped herself. How did he always manage to subdue her defenses? Brows raised, he waited for her to open up if she wished.
Now that the door to this conversation was open, Sarah couldn’t just slam it in his face—not when his expression was so open and he was willing to listen. But could she really admit that she was still recovering from Will’s assumed death and his declaration of love tonight?
No, not to Damien. Although she knew that their relationship would always remain in the “friend zone,” it was becoming increasingly clear to her that he desired something more, and she was having a difficult time keeping her own emotions out of the mix. She would never dangle Will in front of him like that.
When she remained silent in her tortured musings, Damien leaned down to catch her eye, his own swimming with concern. “Is it Cadius?” he whispered—no one ever seemed comfortable speaking the name aloud—and Sarah considered taking the easy out. But then she shook her head. Surprisingly, all thoughts of his threats had fled her mind when Will whisked her away. “Do you miss your family, then?”
Sarah started, surprised at how accurate he was in pinning down her emotions from earlier. She nodded, glad for the topic change when she remembered what today was. She answered honestly, “Where I come from, this day of the year is called Christmas. It’s a big holiday that we celebrate all month long and where family and friends get together.” There was far more to the celebration than that, but she wasn’t sure he would understand.
She heaved a breath, suddenly aching for Lilly and her parents. “I’ve never spent a single holiday apart from them,” she admitted.
The back of Damien’s fingertips brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry.” She nodded, knowing his concern was genuine. She expected him to draw back, but he simply stood there. His gaze turned nervous and confused as he stared at the thumb grazing her pulse, which picked up embarrassingly as his stare lengthened.
“I should go inside,” Sarah whispered, though she couldn’t seem to remember how to move her legs, since all of the blood seemed to be flooding her neck. The warmth that spread over her skin made her all the more aware of the cool chain of Will’s pendant. Had she remembered to tuck it back inside her dress? But the intent way Damien stared at the base of her throat made her think that he wouldn’t have noticed the necklace if it glowed in the dark.
Damien was nodding distractedly, she realized, and then his mind seemed to return to him. He smiled faintly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” But his hand didn’t move.
Sarah cleared her throat. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, my lady,” he whispered, hesitating, and Sarah’s pulse kicked into overdrive. Slowly, he ducked his head to kiss her goodnight, his two-faced mask watching her from atop his head. Sarah’s eyes widened, body stiffening in surprise before she thought to turn her head. His kiss landed on her flaming cheek, just brushing the corner of her mouth, and she gritted her teeth at the instinctive desire to angle her head toward him.
Damien pulled back, looking vaguely disappointed, but he quickly masked it with a slight grin.
“That was forward,” he said softly, retreating a step. He looked so embarrassed that Sarah wanted to say no, it hadn’t been forward. But when she thought of what might happen if she didn’t dissuade him, or what her response would be if he tried to kiss her again, her tongue went dry. It was clear that her evasion of his kiss had wounded him, but she couldn’t return his startling display of affection with the feel of Will’s lips fresh on her mind. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, and it was difficult enough to keep her head straight with the confusing tangle of emotions warring within her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Damien’s tone was questioning and hopeful.
“Yeah,” Sarah whispered. She opened her door and forced a smile for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
~Chapter 38~
An emotional tailspin, that’s what this was.
Sarah frowned up at the ceiling, arms and legs splayed restlessly beneath the covers. The sun had come up hours ago, but she stayed in bed, ruefully musing over last night. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was feeling, or rather she couldn’t feel any singular emotion for more than five seconds at a time.
One instant she felt elated that she and Will had sorted things out and drawn closer to defining their relationship. Then she was reminded of Damien and the way he had tried to kiss her, and especially the fact that she had shied away when she didn’t exactly want to, and she suddenly felt ill.
It had gone back and forth like this since she woke at sunrise—first giddy anticipation when she relived her kiss with Will, followed by immediate remorse over feeling whatever she had at times with Damien; excitement over knowing how Will cared for her, depression at not being able to fully return
Damien’s feelings; a thrill at a shared kiss, a pang of regret over stringing Damien along, however unintentional. Then it turned into trepidation as she thought about some of the moments she had shared with the Spaniard and her confusing feelings at those times, comparing them with her feelings for Will. And so it went until Sarah’s head felt like it might explode from her tangled emotions.
Now she was vacillating between telling Damien that they could never be more than friends, and slinking into a dark hole to wait until he relocated to another continent and forgot all about her before she decided to emerge. The latter half might be the coward’s way out, but it sounded less painful. For the both of them.
“Agh!” With a groan of frustration, Sarah chucked her covers aside and launched herself out of bed. She immediately grimaced as her feet hit the half-frozen floor and quickly shuffled to her slippers, throwing on a robe for good measure.
Sarah plopped down in her desk chair, muttering something about how growing up stunk; it was so much easier when her parents made decisions for her—that would certainly take the pressure off.
She stared at the blank papers lying on her desk until she was sure they would burst into flames, wondering what she could do to occupy her mind until Will came. A twinge of anticipation warmed her stomach at the thought, and she tried to focus on that excited emotion rather than the thousand or so others vying for attention in her mind.
Tapping the fingers of one hand on the wood, Sarah planted her chin on her knuckles with a huff. She knew she was stalling, but she didn’t yet have the heart—or the nerve—to leave her room and risk encountering Damien. Avoidance was definitely the gutless choice, but it gave her time to think.
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