Page 31 of The Duke that I Lost

THE HERE AND NOW

H e was going to kiss her again.

Embrace the here and now… Trust your heart…

Ambrosia nodded, unable to look anywhere but at him.

At his eyes, which seemed to see right through her, and the hint of tiny wrinkles forming at the corners from laughter.

At his high cheekbones, his slender nose, and his whiskers that, no matter how often he shaved, always seemed to shadow the line of his jaw.

At his lips.

And then those lips were descending upon hers.

Before, in the tent, she had kissed him . She’d drank a good deal of wine. It had been a secret kiss—a forbidden one.

This time, Dash was the one to pull her close.

And they were not alone. In fact, everyone, it seemed, was watching.

Encouraging them.

It began as a very gentle kiss. Sweet.

Ambrosia parted her lips and sighed into his mouth. His chest felt warm and solid beneath her hands. Always, always, she felt safe with him.

Trusting her heart, she slid her hands up and around his neck, at the same time his arms snaked around her waist.

This kiss would quite possibly be their last.

Ambrosia pressed herself closer to him and the kiss became more searching, deeper.

He tasted of ale and spice and flavors she’d never forget. He was Dash, Mr. Beckman, her dear Mr. Beckman .

Need spread from her chest to her center. She needed more from him. She needed closer. She simply… needed.

His tongue sparred with hers, playfully, and then not so playfully. His need seemed to rise with hers and the kiss felt almost desperate.

Blood roared in her ears, taking her to a different place, a different time. So much so that when he pulled away, breaking their connection, she was left feeling dreadfully bereft.

In that same moment she became aware of catcalls and whistles around them.

She opened her eyes and her heart… It trembled.

Dash’s eyes burned with desire for her. For Ambrosia Bloomington. She was not mistaken. She was not imagining it.

She could fall in love with this man.

Her pulse throbbed so loudly that she wondered how he couldn’t hear it as well.

“I like this tradition,” Dash admitted in a husky voice, the dancing humor returning to his eyes.

Ambrosia dropped her hands from where they’d been running through his hair, heat flooding her cheeks as several people in the crowd burst into laughter.

“I imagine he does!” Mr. Keller declared. And then tankards lifted all around them followed by a number of cheers.

And after that, Dash did not remove his arm from around her shoulders but kept her close beside him. Half of her meat pie sat on the table, but with the turmoil spinning around inside her, there was no way she would be able to eat anymore. He seemed to sense this.

“There is music playing at the other end of town. Shall we make our way closer to the entertainment?”

She could only nod and allow him to assist her to her feet. Her knees were a little wobbly, and she didn’t know if that was because of the ale she’d consumed or the effects of Dash’s kiss.

Holding hands, they meandered along the bustling line of vendors, stopping along the way to admire various items. She’d already purchased a few intricately embroidered handkerchiefs and found herself more impressed by some of the craftmanship.

“I didn’t think Joseph’s Well was a large enough village to have so many talented people living and working here.”

Dash chuckled. “Most of them are traveling merchants.”

“But of course! Foolish of me. I should know that.” She shook her head, embarrassed, but he pulled her to a halt, drawing her closer to him at the same time.

“Not foolish. You are never foolish, princesse .” He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to see into his eyes, her hand coming to rest upon is chest. His lips were parted, and she could feel his heart racing as quickly as hers.

“You are enjoying yourself, Wife ?” His voice held some laughter, but also something else, as though her answer mattered a great deal.

“Immensely.” And as she often did while in his presence, she found herself grinning up at him. “And you, Husband ? Is this leg-shackle as uncomfortable as you might have imagined?”

The playacting was bittersweet. Embrace the here and now…

“Quite the opposite.” His gaze fell to her mouth just before he bent forward and settled his mouth on hers again.

It was sweet, tender… too short.

He lifted his head, blinking, and ran one hand through his hair. “Come this way, Mrs. Beckman.” And then he was tugging her along, into yet another tent, this one selling the wares of a jeweler.

Reflections of the waning sunlight bounced off of the neatly arranged rows of gold and silver and colorful gemstones. The overall effect was rather pretty.

Ambrosia hesitated to look too closely at the display. She had never worn jewelry of any sort. Not when she was younger, and most definitely not after she’d married.

Vanity, Harrison had never hesitated to remind her, was a sin.

“My wife needs a ring,” Dash announced. He took a moment to study the different pieces and then lifted one up for closer inspection. A moment later, he took her hand and slipped it on her finger. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” But it fit her perfectly and she never would have guessed at the pleasure she felt to see something sparkling on her hand. The metal was a twisted silver with one small stone embedded in the setting. A pale blue, reminding her of his eyes.

“It’s only paste,” he argued.

“Oh, but it is n—” the merchant began but was halted by a hard glance from Dash.

“It is too much,” Ambrosia insisted.

“It’s only a trinket.” He stared down at her hand, seemingly as pleased with the effect as she was.

Ambrosia was going to keep it.

And even if it was made of the cheapest of materials, she’d cherish it forever.

With a quick perusal of the other offerings, she lifted a second ring, similar but designed for a man.

“Then you must have one as well.” She took his hand—slender but strong, and large enough to dwarf her own—and slid it onto his ring finger.

It looked quite elegant, and she found herself even more satisfied looking at his than her own.

“Well, then.” He laughed. “That settles it.”

She pulled some coins from her reticule, but when she went to pay, he shook his head. “Put that away.”

“But it is my gift to you!” She folded the coins into his hand, and before he could argue added, “I will wait outside while you pay.” And then, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Be certain to haggle. I imagine he expects it.”

Laughing, Ambrosia stepped out of the jeweler’s tent and stared up at the sky. Stars already twinkled in the twilight and a gentle wind cooled her cheeks. It was a moment she’d embrace with all of her soul. She would hold it tight to keep it vivid.

The fortune teller’s words whispered in her mind once again. She would enjoy every second she had left with Dash.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, sending even more spirals of giddiness through her. “The ring… merci, princesse .” His voice sounded gravelly, and his French accent was thicker than normal. She held out her own hand for inspection.

“And thank you for mine.”

She wanted to keep things light, fun. They could pretend for the rest of today and however long they had left.

The music struck up again a short distance away, and as the volume of the revelry increased, dancers came into view.

This part of the road had been blocked off and lanterns were strung overhead.

Ambrosia was surprised to see the Wootens on the floor dancing, along with a few other familiar faces, people whose names she could not remember. She and Dash simply stood watching as the line dance was already well under way and seemed somewhat complicated.

But then the music shifted. The line dancers drifted apart, and the musicians spun a slower melody—sweeping and romantic, full of longing. Couples began pairing off in earnest now, swaying and turning, arms entwined beneath the lanterns that swayed gently above the green.

“Did you dance much, before…?” Dash asked, his voice low and warm near her ear.

“No.” By the time Ambrosia had been old enough to attend any of the village assemblies, her father had already passed. And without him… her mother rarely had the heart to go out.

She lifted one shoulder slightly, a quiet resignation in the gesture. “I never learned.”

“ Mon dieu, pas possible .” He spun her gently to face him, one brow arched in mock alarm. “A world where you have never danced? It should not exist.”

But his smile softened as he looked at her, the jest giving way to something quieter. “We must right this great injustice at once.”

Before she could protest—or flee—Dash pulled her a step closer, capturing one of her hands and placing the other on his shoulder. “I will teach you,” he murmured.

“Oh, no.” She dropped her gaze. “In front of all these people? It would be too embarrassing.”

His hand was already at the small of her back, warm and certain. “Chin up,” he said softly. “Eyes on me.”

She could not look anywhere else.

Her feet, uncertain at first, obeyed the subtle pressure of his hand, stepping backward as he guided her along. She thought she was picking up the rhythm for a second, but then she stumbled. Laughed, tried again.

“I cannot.” But she was still smiling, still continued moving, taking halting steps backward at his insistence. Then he tugged her forward. She couldn’t help but burst into laughter again—more joyful than embarrassed.

He laughed too—low and delighted—as he tugged her close, then sent her in a dizzying spin. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough with something she didn’t dare name. “You’ve got it.”

The world melted into the music. A handsome man was holding her in his arms. Stringed instruments wove their tune around them, and overhead the lanterns painted soft golden halos in the darkening sky.

“Is this the waltz?” she asked, breathless. “Winifred said it was scandalous. That it was made by the devil himself.”