A Scandal Made At Midnight

‘I am not doing this for show. This isn’t about any of that, Liane. I couldn’t care less about any of it. All of it. I never have.’ The words came from deep inside him, a place he hardly ever accessed, where his yearnings had lain dormant for so long. He could hardly believe he was confessing to having them at all, and yet he could not ignore them now. He wanted her. He needed her. And he didn’t care if she knew it.

‘Then why...’

‘You’ve got into my blood,’ he said simply. ‘My mind. My...’ Heart. He couldn’t say it. Even caught up in the moment, drunk on both her beauty and sweetness, he couldn’t let himself go that far. ‘I need you,’ he said instead, and her lips parted softly in surprise.

It felt like an invitation, and slowly he wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding through the silk of her hair. A shudder escaped her in a breath of acceptance. He took a step towards her and she let her head fall back so he was cradling it, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips lush and waiting.

The kiss, when it came, was soft and slow and languorous, as if they had all the time in the world when he knew they only had this evening. This moment. And still it went on as he traced the outline of her lips, tasted the honeyed sweetness of her mouth, and her arms came around him as she returned his passion, firing his senses and his blood, making him crave even more.

He broke the kiss to press another to her cheek, her ear, her throat...he couldn’t get enough. He wondered if he ever would. Her breath came out in another shudder as she sagged against him as if her legs couldn’t carry her any more, her fingers driving through his hair.

Alessandro had a primal urge to sweep her up in his arms, carry her through the ballroom like a prince of old with his bride. Somehow he managed to claw back some sanity.

‘Stay the night with me,’ he whispered against her throat, her mouth. ‘Stay the night.’

Her fingers stilled in his hair, her body tensing beneath his. ‘Just the night,’ she said slowly, carefully, and of course he knew what she was asking.

‘I don’t know how long it would last,’ he admitted in a voice ragged with wanting. ‘But I know what I feel for you now and it overwhelms me.’ He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, cradling her lovely face in his hands. ‘Please, Liane.’ He’d never begged before, yet it felt like that was what he was doing now. He, a man who never asked for anything, who made sure he never needed anyone, was begging. It was shaming and freeing all at once, to admit to this need. To need someone this much, when for so long he hadn’t let himself.

Liane stared at him, her eyes full of torment, her lips trembling. ‘You told me I was made for the fairy tale,’ she said after a moment, a catch in her voice, her face cradled in his hands. ‘You’re the only person who has said such a thing to me, who let me believe that I was. That I could be.’

‘Liane...’ Already he felt the moment slipping away; what had, seconds ago, felt beautiful and precious now felt sordid and wrong. Had he really been begging her to sleep with him? Had he fallen that low, become that craven? He dropped his hands from her face and took a step away.

‘I’m sorry, Alessandro.’ She pressed one hand to his cheek and he closed his eyes, resisting the urge to turn his head and press a kiss to her palm. ‘It’s taking everything I have to say no to you, and the only reason I’m doing it is because I know you have the power to break my heart.’ He swallowed hard, humbled by her honest admission, horrified by his own. He’d done the one thing he’d said he never would—been led by his emotions. Let them bring him to this awful place of loss and rejection and hurt. How could he have been so stupid?

‘I could fall in love with you,’ Liane confessed, an ache in her voice as Alessandro struggled to school his features into something cool and implacable. ‘I think part of me already has, without wanting to, without meaning to. I’m sorry, for your sake as much as mine. I know it’s not what you want. This has happened so suddenly, so intensely. For me, anyway.’ She let out a wobbly laugh that held more than a hint of sadness as well as an ache of longing, and it made Alessandro want to take her in his arms again, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t, now that it was so obvious where he stood. ‘I’m not trying to pressure you into offering more than you can give. I hope you believe me on that. I just... I just can’t give myself to you knowing what you are willing to offer in return. How little. I... I can’t let myself be hurt like that, and I know I would be. I’m sorry.’ Her voice choked on the last words and before he could reply she hurried from the balcony, moving quickly through the crowded ballroom, just as Ella had a week ago, except this time, Alessandro knew with a leaden certainty, it was no publicity stunt.

Liane was running away—from him.