A Most Unladylike Proposition - Chapter 9
Diana thought she might actually be going mad as she cast one last look at Mrs. Smythe, finally dozing in her chair. She then slipped out of the ballroom and into the night. The cool air was a welcome relief; it nipped along her bare arms as she moved further away from the ball and all its lights towards the darkness and into all the unknowns it held. Although she tried to be brave, her nerves were alive, prickling beneath her skin like an illness that made her sweat and shake. Her deep breaths seemed to echo in the night. ‘What on earth are you doing, Diana?’ she whispered. ‘This is the stuff of imminent ruination!’ She took a steadying breath in, and trying to remind herself, said, ‘You are engaged to an earl! A rich one!’
The reminder was enough to slow down her steps. Until she stopped completely.
Up ahead, she could just make out the brick wall that surrounded the rose garden. It loomed in the dark night, like some fantastical gateway to another world. A world that she knew nothing about. And very likely never would if she did not close that last distance.
The thought gave her courage.
Without giving herself any time to second-guess her decision, she marched to the closed gate and unlatched it.
She stepped inside.
‘I was beginning to think you would not come.’
Diana stilled. Her heart gave one anxious lurch, as if warning her that the time to leave had come and gone. She narrowed her gaze, trying to make out the man from the shadows towards the centre of the rose garden. ‘I was beginning to think I would not come either,’ she admitted.
His low chuckle drifted through the night, pulling the fine hairs on her arms upright. And when he stepped closer, out of the darkness, his looming size did little to ease her anxiety.
The stranger must have sensed it. ‘You are scared.’
‘Not of you. I don’t think. Or, maybe just a little,’ she replied breathily.
‘I would never hurt you.’
He drew nearer so that Diana was forced to tip her head back when she replied, ‘It’s only… This is rather risqué.’ In her anxiety, her words were rushed. ‘I’m half tempted to ask you to kiss me very quickly so that I can return to the ball before anyone notices that I am missing.’
‘Are you speaking hypothetically or are you asking me to kiss you?’ His deep voice settled over her. ‘I want you to be very clear.’
‘I think—’
‘Don’t think—know. Know what you want.’
‘You are awfully bossy,’ she accused.
‘No,’ he argued, his voice lightening on his laugh. ‘I simply know what I want.’
‘And you want…to kiss me?’
‘Oh, I want to do far more than kiss you,’ he replied without pause. ‘Which is why you need to be sure.’
He did not touch her, though she rather wished he would.
He stood close, but to Diana it felt like he was just out of her reach.
She was filled with the inescapable feeling that everything was about to change. But instead of terrifying her, it thrilled her. It was exciting. It was new.
Wanting to hold on to the feeling, she closed that last distance between them. The stranger sighed, as if he were relieved. Still, he did not touch her. He asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to kiss me,’ she said, quietly but clearly. And because her nerves were making her feel quite sick, she added, ‘Preferably quickly.’
‘No.’
Diana reared back. ‘No?’
‘No first kiss should be quick,’ he clarified. ‘It should be long. And deep. And slow.’