Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)

“Miss Bromwell.”

It took a tremendous amount of effort not to shout ‘what!’ and Evelyn turned to find a handsome gentleman with hair as dark as ebony and eyes a deep mesmerising green.

“Yes?” she said, the single word revealing her surprise. Stupidly, she glanced left and right as though there was more than one lady bearing her name and he had chosen the wrong one.

The gentleman bowed. “Forgive me. I know it is considered highly inappropriate as we have not been formally introduced, but I am Lord Markham. If I could just have a moment of your time.” He paused and then added, “There is nothing to fear. We will remain in the ballroom, just a few feet away.”

Evelyn turned to Charlotte, who looked down her nose and gave a disgruntled huff. Mr. Sutherby would return with refreshments at any moment. “Yes, of course, my lord,” she said, relieved to have an excuse to leave the grumbling patient.

Lord Markham steered her away from Charlotte to a quieter spot near an alcove. “I could not help but notice you dancing with Lord Hale,” he began. “I hope you do not think my approach forward or out of turn, but I recently saw the gentleman in the orangery and he appeared somewhat agitated.”

“Agitated?” Evelyn repeated although it came as no surprise. No doubt he was annoyed with her for abandoning him without a word.

“It is probably nothing,” he said with a dismissive wave, “I’m sure he will return momentarily. I did not mean to alarm you. It’s just you appear to know him well. I suspect you will want to go to him.” The gentleman stared into her eyes, and she found the rich green hues soothing. Images of rolling around in summer meadows and snoozing in the long grass filled her head. “I shall not keep you, as I’m sure you will want to find him.”

Evelyn smiled. “Thank you, my lord, for bringing the matter to my attention.”

“When you go to him, do not mention our conversation.”

“No, my lord,” she replied as the gentleman bowed and made his retreat.

You should go to him.

The thought popped into her head again. No one would notice her nipping out into the garden and she did owe Lord Hale an apology. Aunt Beatrice had spent the entire evening with Mr. Hartwood and would assume she was still with the Sutherbys.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped out into the night. She had no idea where she was going but after a few wrong turns soon found herself outside the quaint little castle.

As soon as she opened the door and began her journey along the path, she knew Alexander Cole was still inside. Her body responded instantly. She felt the thrum of excitement tingle in her fingertips, working its way up her arm to fill her chest.

She found him sitting on a stone bench, his head in his hands, evoking memories of him at Stony Cross, of how glorious his naked body looked in the moonlight.

“Lord Hale?”

He looked up at her, his eyes revealing some unknown emotion and her heart swelled so large she could feel it pushing against her ribs. The overwhelming urge to soothe him, to run her fingers through his dark locks, took hold.

“Miss Bromwell,” he said coming to his feet. He glanced towards the door. “What are you doing in here?”

“I left you without any explanation. It was rude of me. Miss Sutherby had fainted and well …”

He snorted. “I’m normally the one guilty of being rude. But you shouldn’t be seen with me. Not out here.”

Desire pulsed deep in her core at the thought of being alone with him, and she could not stop her gaze lingering on his mouth as she recalled his comment about wanting to kiss her.

“I don’t care about that,” she said stepping closer to him. “No one knows I’m out here.” A strange energy pulsed around them, and she wanted to throw her arms wide and embrace it.

He closed the gap between them. “Come, let us return to the ballroom before someone sees you.”

She didn’t want to go back. She might never get another opportunity to be alone with him, to explore this potent attraction that existed between them.

“What you said earlier … about what you’d want if we were alone.”

“They were the foolish words of a dreamer.”

“You didn’t mean it then?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Oh, I meant every word.”

“Then kiss me,” she whispered, aware of the tremor in her voice, of the brazen way she’d asked. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, and his eyes grew wide. His skin felt cool to the touch, soft where he’d recently shaved, and he covered her hand with his own, securing it in place as he closed his eyes.