Page 22 of Red Masquerade

He seemed pleased with himself, an easy smile settled into his features. He had taken his cap off and placed it in his lap. The lateafternoon sun turned his hair a warm reddish hue, shining and illuminating his person, so that even his skin brightened. There was mirth in his eyes, an ease and happiness I hadn’t seen the last time we met.

The other boys I’d spoken to, and the only one I’d ever had call on me, couldn’t compare to the young man sitting in front of me. When his dimple appeared, I wanted to touch him, to lean over and place my hand on his cheek, to pull him to me. To tangle my fingers in those red locks.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked me, pulling me from my silence. A few car horns honked somewhere on the street.

I blushed. “Nothing,” I said. If only he knew.

He set his cup down and straightened. “Well, I have some questions for you.”

“Oh?” I set my teacup down as well, leaning on my elbows. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You know so much about me, about what I do. What doyoudo?”

“What do you mean?” I laughed, uncertain.

“What do you do?” he repeated himself. “You must spend your days doingsomething.”

“Daydreaming, shopping, chatting,” I listed, looking at him through my lashes. Because what could I say? To him, I probably didn’t do much of anything. If he saw me as frivolous, would he become disinterested? And were I honest with myself, I more often than not spent my life doing frivolous things, waiting for the next fun thing to come along. Mother didn’t let me do much, now that my tutoring was done, and I certainly couldn’t find a job. Though, she was bothered I didn’t much want to live my lifelike she did, putting on a face for others, inviting them over just so they could see how well we were doing. I only cared for Flora and the few acquaintances we’d made in our youth.

Adam leaned closer to me, our faces a mere foot apart over the table, the steam from my Earl Grey citrusy and sweet between us. His eyes flashed with that same intriguing pull from the first time I met him, that sense of danger, of wildness.

“What do you daydream about?” he asked, gaze flickering to my lips.

“Marriage, one day. Being a princess in my own castle.” I smiled.Getting away. You.

He hummed. “Simple, girlish dreams.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“There must be something greater to you, Helena,” he said, voice low. “What do you want?”

I exhaled a laugh again, but saw he was serious. “Well, I don’t know.”

“You must want something.” He was staring at me, eyes hooded, that auburn hair curling around his ears. I never wanted him to look away from me.

You. I want you.

I’d never wanted something,somebody,so entirely.

I swallowed and sat back just an inch. “Must I want something? Can I not be content?”

He shook his head. “You’re not like that.” As though he knew me. “I see it, how you let choices be made for you. But you don’t want it.” Like he knew about Lucas, about my first suitor; like he knew how closely my mother still kept me. How they both had to know everyone in my life, had to watch me,monitorme.

“I chose you,” I said. And it was one of the first true things I’d done on my own. I couldn’t let Lucas or Mother take it—him—away.

Adam studied me, then smiled. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

Perhaps that was the cord between us that felt so tight, a pull from me to him, drawing me in, urging me closer.

“We both wantmore.”

I nodded, breath hitching in my throat. It was the second time I was ever with him, and my heart raced, feeling as though I were at the precipice of a proposal, an offer to change my world, mylife.

My hands in my lap clutched at my skirts, waiting for his next words.

He smiled up at me, those hooded eyes dark and wanting. “And I want to give it to you.”

Eight