Gossamer in the Darkness (Fantasyland)

It was a circus.

And it was magical.

I felt Loren divest me of my cloak to give it to a waiting attendant.

And I heard a collective gasp.

My gown, a nude beige silk that was form-fitting to above my knees, then flared out in a circular skirt, but faded to a see-through netting above the bodice, was stitched impeccably with cut-outs of immaculate black lace. The lace floated in lines down the skirt and rounded the hem. It also raised over my breasts and capped my shoulders. And a band of it was stitched at my waist like a belt and my neckline to serve as a necklace.

The back, leading over my ass and down the train, was even better.

My hair was up in a sleek style. I carried a black satin clutch with a rhinestone buckle as a catch. Long black gloves were smoothed up my arms. And I wore no jewelry but large diamond studs at my ears.

And it was good I went for it for my first date with my guy.

Because every eye in the room was on me.

“Well…shite,” I breathed.

“You’re magnificent,” Loren whispered in my ear, tucked my hand in his elbow, and guided me into the room.

Every gaze followed.

We walked behind the maître d’ as he took us to a table at the back and to the side that was small, rectangular, had a five-candle candelabra, and two plush, black-velvet chairs on the outside facing the view where the table was set against the window.

And Newton lay before us, twinkling like London while Peter, Wendy and friends flew over it to Neverland.

Loren held out my seat.

I sat.

He joined me and was barely down when two gorgeously etched flutes of champagne were laid in front of us, the bucket with the bottle put on the table, and whoever offered these swept away.

Our backs were to the room, I could still feel the attention even though a hum had struck up.

And I didn’t care a whit.

I reached for my glass.

Loren took his.

I turned to him.

He’d dressed for the occasion, apparently, in all black, including boots, shirt and neckcloth.

He looked like a glamorous scoundrel.

Delicious.

I tipped my flute toward him.

“This will be the best, most enjoyable, most memorable evening I’ll ever have in my life,” I announced.

“Will it?” he asked, sounding amused.

I was not amused.

“It will,” I stated, my voice edged with steel.

His attention on me grew acute.

“Satrine,” he whispered, his voice rough.

“You may think you’re dark,” I told him. “And I’m finding you are. Dark like this.” I indicated the room with a sweep of my flute. “Edged in gossamer and crystal. Lit with fire. A beautiful cocoon where I feel safe, truly safe, for the first time in my life.”

His voice was now thick, and that fire was burning into me from his eyes.

“Sweeting.”

I leaned into him and whispered, “So stay dark, my handsome man. I’ll take you precisely as you come.”

I sat back, clinked my glass against his, and drank.

He didn’t drink.

He took my flute after I took my sip and set it beside his own, which was already on the table.

Then he pulled me into his arms, my ass barely still on my seat, my chest plastered to his, and he laid a wet, heavy, scrumptious kiss on me.

He released my mouth but not my body.

I swam up from the kiss.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Good, because the same is happening to me,” I replied breathily.

He smiled, a small, happy, beautiful smile.

I wasn’t sure I gave as good as I got, but I tried.

“Remington, my chap.”

We both turned our heads.

At a table a few feet away, a man with a bald pate, bushy white hair at the sides, and even bushier mutton-chop sideburns was smiling at us.

“Here’s to your good fortune, sir,” he said, raising a glass of red wine our way.

“Yes, hear hear,” the woman with him agreed, rising from her seat.

The man followed her as we heard another “hear hear.”

And then more.

And more.

Everyone rose and raised their glass to the Marquess of Remington and his bride.

So…freaking…cool.

“Is this…uh, normal?” I asked under my breath.

“They don’t know what I did, but they do know it was offered the highest decoration from the king when I served in his army,” he answered low. “And that decoration is rewarded very rarely, so they can assume it was something.”

Well then.

Since it was something, that most certainly explained it.

I smiled at the room, all on their feet, raising their glasses to my man.

And I did it huge.

“And I believe it’s safe to say,” he went on in a drawl, “they agree with me that your gown is quite remarkable.”

Oh my gods!

He was just…plain…awesome!

With that, Loren set me more fully in my seat, took my glass and handed it to me, nabbed his own, and I followed suit as we twisted in our chairs and raised our drinks to the assemblage.