Once Upon a Romance 01 - Before the Midnight Bells

by Jessica Woodard

  Ella laughed, and relaxed a bit. “How about a Castillian Admiral? Very grand, vaguely exotic, and fully clothed.”

  “Perfect! Does this mean you’ll accept my commission?”

  She took a deep breath and met his eyes squarely.

  “I’ll need your measurements.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Max’s eyes followed Ella as she made her way to the door and locked it, hanging a sign in the small window that read Engaged in a Fitting. It suddenly occurred to him that in a few moments he would be standing in a small room alone with her, mostly undressed. Aside from her rosy color Ella was betraying no signs of nervousness, and Max was determined not to be a bigger ninny than she was. After all, he had experience being in front of a woman stripped down. Not while said woman was fully clothed, of course, but still… Ella presumably had no experience with naked men, and that meant he couldn’t be less self-possessed than she was. He gave himself a stern but swift talking to. No blushing. No stammering. And, most importantly, no signs that he knew she was a beautiful woman. That her smile was making his heart beat faster. That he wanted to see her hair tumbling free down her back again. Not one single clue.

  If he could help it.

  Ella turned to him and gestured, saying “I do my measurements behind that rear curtain.” She went over to the counter and picked up a long tape with regularly spaced marks on it, and he walked behind the curtain, very firmly not blushing.

  It was a small space, with a sturdy stool and a tiny wardrobe to one side. Max stood in the center of the room, at a loss, while Ella moved in behind him and drew the curtain firmly shut.

  “You’ll need to disrobe.” The humor was back in her voice. Clearly she knew he was uncertain and found it amusing. He sat down to take off his shoes and stockings, and thought furiously for a moment. He supposed this was somewhat just—after all, it had been his idea in the first place—but knowing she was laughing at him pricked at his pride. If she was going to pretend to nerves of steel, then he would do the same. Viewing it as a challenge calmed him down immensely, and let him see things in a whole different light. After all, hadn’t he just been telling himself that she had no experience in viewing an undressed man? How fortunate for him that he was going to get to educate her.

  He stood, and looking her full in the face, he reached up to remove his cravat. Max could tell that she was working valiantly to hold onto her amused calm, but when the last bit of silk slid from beneath his collar the humor left her eyes and was replaced by… something else. Her eyes flickered everywhere, but Max never looked away as he peeled off his jacket and hung it up by feel in the wardrobe. Her gaze followed his hands as he slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, and then flew back up to his face when he slid his shirt tails out of his waistband. He felt a jolt when her eyes met his, and he suddenly knew that he desperately wished he were disrobing under completely different circumstances. He could imagine her small hands helping to pull his shirt open over his chest, tugging at his belt, pulling down his… but no. He ruthlessly checked that line of thought. Unless he wanted to scare her with rock hard evidence of her effect on him, he should not imagine her small hands helping him with anything.

  As the shirt fell off his shoulders he heard her stop breathing, and decided to have a little mercy on them both. “Hang this up for me?” Her fingers barely brushed his as she took the crisp collar from him, and then turned to hang it up, hiding her face in the wardrobe. He watched her back as she took a deep breath, and evidently schooled her features, because when she turned back she said, very calmly, “And the pants?” A small smile appeared on his face. He couldn’t help it, the woman was something to be admired. If they were playing a game of chicken, it was entirely possible that she was winning. Quickly, like pulling off a bandage, he removed his pants and handed them to her, watching her face for some hint of what she was thinking.

  Ella didn’t think, she just hung the pants in the wardrobe and turned to face Max. Best to deal with the fact that she had an almost-naked man in front of her. Then she could go on with measuring and forget about it. At least, that was her intention. Then she was facing him again, with nothing between them, and she found for a moment she couldn’t move, think, or breath. She could only stare.

  Max wasn’t a large man. He was taller than her, for certain, but no more than average height compared to most gentlemen. His dark curly hair contrasted with blue, blue eyes, and he paired them both with a wicked grin much of the time. Fully dressed he was certainly handsome, but without his clothes on he was amazing. Lean muscles wrapped his frame. Ella really had no idea what he did in his leisure time when he wasn’t attending balls or visiting seamstresses, but whatever it was, the well developed tone in his body showed that he did it rigorously.

  Her eyes drifted from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, and from his waist down to his… abruptly she pulled her eyes up. He was watching her watch him, and passion blazed in those blue eyes. His grin was nowhere in evidence; instead his mouth seemed somehow softer, as though he were thinking of using it to express something far different from humor. His gaze wandered down her, much in the same manner she had just looked at him, and his perusal made her feel that, despite her voluminous skirts, he could see her body as clearly as she could see his. Her stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies, and warmth was spreading up from the base of her throat to set her face aflame.

  Ella knew that if she didn’t move soon then she’d never move, and possibly they’d both be stuck there in that awkward and intensely intimate moment forever, so she closed her eyes briefly and took a firm grip on her measuring tape. Then she took a step forward and began.

  She started with his waist. She had to practically embrace him to run the measuring tape behind his back, and Max could feel the heat of her face, ghosting just above the bare skin on his chest. He was tempted to inhale deeply, and brush against her cheek, but he took a firm grip on himself. He willed himself to not move, no matter what wayward thoughts went through his head.

  It was an odd kind of erotic torture, standing there, pretending not to notice when her fingers brushed the flat planes of his stomach as she brought the ends of the tape together. Heat bloomed in his core, rising to meet each delicate fingertip. From his waist she loosened the tape and drew it over his hips, letting the heel of one hand nestle into the hollow just under his hipbone while she noted the measurements with the other. The warmth raced to follow, settling where ever skin met skin. When she knelt down in front of him, Max closed his eyes and kept track of what she was doing by feeling the path her hands were taking across his body. Whisper light touches—at his waist with one hand, the other skimming along the outside of his leg to the floor—coated his skin with liquid fire.

  Ella was grateful when Max closed his eyes. Her face was burning and her hands were shaking, but being unobserved allowed her to calm down and fall into a rhythm; one hand holding the tape, the other letting it slip through her fingers until she found the measurement, then writing it down and beginning again. Waist, hips, waist to floor; the inseam gave her a momentary pause.

  “Could you hold this end of the tape for me?” Her voice was pitched so low it almost sounded like another person. Max looked down at her with burning eyes and Ella hastily offered him the measuring tape. He closed his hand over hers, pulling the tape from her suddenly slack fingers.

  “Where does it go?” He saw her eyes widen in alarm at the question.

  “It, ah, it goes… just put it against your leg, and…” Max almost grinned at her sudden hesitation.

  Ella saw the wicked twinkle in his eye, and immediately stopped faltering. “I’m sure you’ve been measured before.”

  “I have, but trust me, this is still a whole new experience.” His voice almost made her blush with the raw heat contained in it, but Ella fought it down. Tease her, would he?

  “Well then, this is the inseam measurement. Please hold the top of the tape. I’m sure you can find where it goes.”

&
nbsp; “Of course. I’m sure I can.” When Ella had no ready reply Max fell silent, satisfied at getting in the last word, and positioned the tape at the apex of his legs. Ella bent to the floor and quickly noted the measurement with shaking hands. She didn’t trust herself to touch his fingers again, so instead she gave a gentle tug on the tape. Max’s mouth curved in a barely perceptible smile, and he let go, closing his eyes once more. Still on her knees, Ella took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. Measurements—she had to focus on the measurements.

  It was hopeless, though. When she stood up to take his shoulder width she found herself fascinated by the broad expanse of his back. Holding the end of her tape against one shoulder she turned her other hand palm-down and let it glide across to the other side, feeling the play of his muscles and the hard rise of his shoulder blades. Max shuddered beneath her hand, but otherwise gave no indication of noticing her. Ella was a bit piqued. She could barely breathe with him standing before her like this, and he just ignored her? He probably thought that staring her down while he disrobed had shown her up, but she was no meek and timid maid. At the ball they had challenged one another with food and words; this was just another form of the game.

  She let her fingers drift softly down his arms as she took length measurements, and then came to stand in front of him. Again her arms circled around him to pass the tape behind his back, and then she drew it together, her knuckles skimming along his chest, until her hands came together above his heart. Even through the backs of her fingers she could feel it pounding, and Ella smiled. Perhaps he wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended.

  Once more she released the tape, and then reached up to slide it around his neck. Her fingers drifted through the curls at the nape of his neck for just a moment, and came to rest above the hollow in his throat where his pulse thundered. As she leaned forward to read the tape she arched her hand up and out of the way, brushing his jaw in the process. She reached for her pen to record the number and felt a warm hand close over her own.

  Max’s eyes were open, and the look in them caused her heart to race at least as fast as his. Ella froze. Her measurements were done, and now here she was, one hand being held firmly and the other… the other…

  The other was holding a loop that stretched around Max’s neck.

  She pulled. She couldn’t help it. Nothing existed except for those eyes, and the wildfire they had ignited in her chest. She had to bring them closer, had to fall into them, and then maybe she could breathe again.

  Max felt the gentle tug around his neck. When he had opened his eyes to find her face so near his own, he had reacted without thinking, reaching out to capture her hand and draw her in. Now, with her soft but insistent pull on the tape, he realized that she had done the same. Neither of them was thinking, but in this moment he hardly cared. He leaned down, ready to take the kiss she was obviously willing to give, and the bells of the city began to ring.

  Ella heard the bells chime, and the merest glimmer of a thought penetrated her brain. Oh yes, the bells tolled the hour, and the hour meant…

  The hour meant she had work to do.

  It was like a dash of cold water in the face. She had no time for stolen kisses in her back room. Quickly she backed away from Max. Sir Max. Lord Max. She didn’t know his precise title, but she knew that a man of his station would hardly be looking for anything legitimate from a seamstress. And she didn’t want anything from him, legitimate or otherwise! It didn’t matter that she enjoyed his company, and it didn’t matter that looking at him in his small clothes made her insides feel like jelly. What mattered was that dressing him could help her business, and her business was not only her dream, it was the way she was going to help her family.

  Max stood there looking both heated and confused, and Ella found the juxtaposition amusing. Just that quickly she saw the humor of the situation once again, and so it was with a laugh in her voice that she asked him, as she headed through the curtain:

  “So, shall we discuss specifics?”

  Max was bewildered. A moment ago he had been about to kiss this woman, and now she was clearly running away, while at the same time laughing at him. It took him a second to realize that she had even asked him anything.

  “What?”

  “You know; materials, tailoring preferences, budget… that sort of thing. ”

  “You want to discuss budget?”

  “It is a practical consideration.” Her voice floated back to him from the front of the shop.

  Max took stock of himself. Engaged to the princess, standing here in his small clothes, and desperately wishing that Ella would return and give him the kiss he had sought.

  There was nothing practical about this at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Max could hear Ella’s laughter from the front of the shop as he hastily threw his clothes back on. If they were keeping score, and he was fairly sure they were, then she had won this round. He tried to tie his cravat properly three times, and on the fourth attempt gave it up for lost. How could a man properly tie a cravat when his hands were shaking with thwarted lust? It simply couldn’t be expected. He did manage to fasten his shoes properly, and then he tumbled into the front of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet. Thankfully for his dignity, Ella was back at her stool, bowed over her work, and missed his less-than-graceful entrance. In fact, she seemed determined to ignore him completely, which, in light of what had almost just occurred, simply couldn’t be borne, so he sauntered casually over to her.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  Her eyes flew to his face. Suddenly he realized that she might have been ignoring him so fiercely because she was hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush that was painting her entire face pink. Somehow that blush made him feel better. She had more self composure than any young lady was due, and she’d just denied him a kiss for no reason that he could determine, but her rosy cheeks kept her from completely having the upper hand.

  “About what?”

  Max chuckled, he couldn’t help it. Given her nervous air she had clearly misunderstood his question.

  “Ah… materials, tailoring, budget? That sort of thing?”

  “Oh, your costume!”

  Her face was, if possible, even redder than before. Her thoughts had been easy to read on her face, and she knew it. Max felt mercy stirring. As lovely as the color was on her, he knew she must be cringing inside. Without thinking, he moved to distract her.

  “So then, shall we go to a tea house and discuss it?”

  This could not be happening. It simply could not be happening. She was sitting here, face on fire, and this man, whom she barely knew, but had just seen practically naked, was asking her to tea.

  “I don’t think I have the time…”

  Max saw her uncertainty, and knew that her instinct was to turn him down. He was sure, however, that he knew what card to play to get her to agree to tea.

  “I see, I see.” He used his most somber tone. “My manly glory has frightened you away, as it would any bashful maiden. Quite right, quite right.”

  Ella’s head shot up, and her spine straightened immediately. She glared at Max, but the mischief lurking in his eyes betrayed his overly solemn demeanor and disarmed her temper. He thought he could regain the upper hand, did he? Well, she would show him.

  “Not at all,” Ella used the sweetly simpering tone she heard other ladies use so often, “I just wasn’t sure if I had time to step out before my next appointment—I have several other gentlemen coming by for measurements today.”

  Max felt like he had been struck dumb. He knew she was jesting—he knew it—but somehow that didn’t keep him from imagining Ella measuring any number of men behind that curtain. Seeing them undress, touching them as she had him… he was speechless. He wouldn’t allow it. He would… he would…

  He checked himself. He would what? He wasn’t her father, or brother, or husband; he wasn’t even her fiancé. He had no claim on her, just because they had spent an evening
together and then flirted, no matter how intimately, in the back of her shop. She didn’t even know who he really was, and he certainly couldn’t tell her. He was supposed to be madly in love with Vivienne. There was no way he could upset the princess’s plans, crush his father, and anger the king by giving the impression that he was having a fling with a dressmaker. She was right, this was no time for them to be going to tea.

  Ella was concerned—Max looked like he’d been hit in the head with a brick. She was about to ask if he was alright when he shook his head just a bit, and then gave her a polite, reserved smile, so different from the usual grin that adorned his face when he spoke to her.

  “I would hate to be the cause of a missed appointment; perhaps you are correct, and tea isn’t possible.”

  Max gave a quick bow and began to move to the door. Ella was hurt and confused. Given all the good-humored teasing they had engaged in last night, she hardly thought a joke about measuring scores of men would cause such a shift. Why was Max suddenly acting distant? Still, the bells had reminded her once, and she wasn’t likely to forget again: this man was her client, and she had a job to do.

  “Before you go,” Ella matched his cheerfully professional tone, “if you have no preferences I can decide on materials and tailoring, but really, you must give me a budget.”

  “Hmmm… I don’t want to go overboard.” Max named a staggering sum. “Would that be enough?”

  Ella practically choked. She could make him ten costumes for that price. Out of gold. “I think that would suit admirably. Can you make a fitting in two days time?”

  “A fitting.” Max imagined standing again in the back room, while Ella smoothed and pinned fabric to his body. The polite smile was wiped from his face, replaced by his more customary grin.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  ***

  After Max had gone, Ella felt swamped by unfamiliar emotions. Her whole body felt warm, her clothing seemed too tight, and when she thought over Max’s visit to the shop she felt… well, so many things she couldn’t even name them all. Mostly she was confused. She couldn’t understand her own reactions, let alone his. What was she doing putting herself into such a compromising position? Why would she ever agree to such a ridiculous idea? Because he smiled at her? That made no sense. Somehow when Max teased her, all her sensibilities flew right out the window.