Page 11 of Slightly Wicked

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“Was that how long it took for me to decide?” she asked, sitting on the seat opposite her gentleman stranger, painfully aware how her voice shook.

“It could have been a minute,” came the droll reply.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her gaze from the floor of the carriage and up to his face. He studied her with a curious intensity, and there was an invitation in the smoldering depths of his gaze. That lure frightened her even as Eleanor admitted he simply took her breath. A dangerous thrill burst inside her heart. “Do not look at me so,” she murmured, clasping her gloved hands in her lap.

“How do I look at you?”

“Shamelessly…not at all like a gentleman.”

He stiffened, and long lashes swept down, hiding the beauty of his gray eyes and his thoughts. When he looked up, whatever he had felt to stare at her with such piercing intensity was shuttered. Eleanor did not feel relief but oddly bereft.

“Why did you stop your carriage?” she whispered, knowing she should flee this highly inappropriate encounter.

“I recognized you,” he said as if those simple words should explain everything.

Agitated, she asked, “Why does it matter that you recognized me, sir?”

“I confess I have travelled these streets often since our chance meeting, hoping to see you again.” There was a beat of silence filled only with a long breath as if he’d just gotten air after going days without it. “And here you are. I had to stop.”

Her breath caught in her chest at his words, for they implied a longing beyond what strangers should share. A longing that had left her restless and aching these last few nights.

“Why did you enter?”

He had such extraordinary eyes and how they held her stare…it was beyond her capabilities to glance away.

“I suppose I recognized you as well,” she said with a small, tentative smile. “I have thought of you and our meeting these last few days. I…it is good to see you again.”

Her offered her a sudden, arresting smile. “This feels a bit like serendipity, wouldn’t you say?”

“It is not serendipity, given you looked for me in earnest.”

“I cannot recall saying it was in earnest,” he drawled. “But I did not look today and yet here you are.”

“Your stare implied it was earnest.”

“Ah,” he murmured. “Then I admit to it. I hoped even in my dreams I would see you again.”

She gripped the edges of the seat until her fingers ached.I dreamed of seeing you again, Eleanor silently admitted. Something about sitting with him in the intimate confines of his carriage felt perilous. “I am happy my curiosity was satisfied today. Now I must bid you fare—”

His gaze clashed with hers. “Are you really satisfied?”

“I…well, yes,” she said.

A rough, mocking sound came from him, and she canted her head. “You are not?”

“No. I am not close to being satisfied. That you are truly here with me now tell me that you are also wondering…”

She did not know what to say. Eleanor did not truly understand why she was still in the carriage with him. The only thing that made itself apparent was the fast beating of her heart and the nervousness she felt.There was more, too, she silently admitted. There was the keenest sort of anticipation for something…anything…to happen.

“Take a turn with me around the avenue.”

The question caught her off guard, but her response outright shocked her, “Yes.”

Her heart jolted when he used a cane to knock the roof of his carriage, and they lurched into motion. A quick glance outside showed the wide-eyed expressions of her sisters as the carriage whisked her away. This was all too exciting and out of character for her; she didn’t even know his name.

“What is your name?”

He removed his hat and set it on the seat. “Lucien Glendevon.”


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical