Catherine (Echoes of Ossiria #1) (8 page)

She made a sound
of disgust and stood to move to another seat.
 
He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back down.
 
“Careful, pet. I didn’t want to alarm you,
but there’s every possibility
Tallis
has someone
watching you tonight. Might want to think about how you behave.”

“You
told
him we’d be here?”

“He did say he’d
check in on your progress, and this was the nearest event I could book to test
your training. Maybe they won’t watch you up here, but there will definitely be
someone at the party. Whose side do you want to be on at the end of the night?”

The message was
clear: be the perfect little lady, or get turned over to
Tallis
.
 
Her eyes narrowed into angry slits.
 
“I hate you,” she whispered.

“Maybe. But you
need me. We all have our crosses to bear. So, be a good girl, hmm?”

She nodded.
 
He let go, and she leaned back in her seat,
tears pricking her eyes.

Just get through
tonight.

Catherine began to
relax once the house lights went down and the music started.
 
There was just enough indirect light to
follow her program if she tilted it a certain way.
 
Bach, Brahms, Mozart…lesser known
composers…it was surprising how much of the older stuff was “scary” sounding,
or suspenseful.
 

She glanced at him
occasionally, but he seemed focused on the music.

Intermission snuck
up on her.
 
Had it been an hour and a
half already?

“I’m going to make
a trip to the ladies’ room,” she said to her date.

“Don’t get lost,”
he said with good humor.

“Ha, ha.”

After successfully
negotiating the toilet in her dress, she stood at the mirror and retouched her
lipstick.

“Those pearls
really complement your complexion, dear,” said one woman.

“Thank you. It’s a
pleasure to be out tonight. It has been a while for me since I’ve enjoyed a
full orchestra,” Catherine said.

“You’re American!”
remarked another.
 
“Have you been
visiting long?”

“A few weeks. It
took me a bit to get used to, as I’m from California.”

“Oh! Is it true
that you can see movie stars driving down the streets?”

“Not so much. Only
in a couple places in L.A.”

“Did an American
designer do your dress?” asked another woman.

“No, I got it
here.”

The lights flashed
off and on, indicating they should head back to their seats.
 
The old biddies sighed, their gossip session
cut short.
 

Catherine was
relieved.

“What took you so
long?” William asked as she sat down.

“Women in formal
wear in a bathroom. You do the math. It’s not easy keeping your dress out of
the bowl or not stepped on. And then, there’s the line.”

“I get the picture,”
he said, and chuckled.
 
“I could get you
to the front next time you have to visit the loo.”

“That’s okay,
William.”

The lights dimmed
once more.

“For the second
part of the evening, there will be a reading of Edgar Allan Poe’s
A
Tell-Tale Heart
, accompanied by the orchestra.”

“Oh, I love Poe’s
stories! I had some in a set of children’s horror books my father gave me. I
read them many times.”

“Wouldn’t have
taken you for a fan of Gothic fiction.”

“I don’t know
about that…only Poe. And
The Count of
Monte Cristo
. It was very different stuff from the typical Disney
fairytales. I had a book of Grimm’s tales, too.”

“Baby has a dark
side,” he teased.

“Oh, hush…”

He watched and
waited for just the right…suspenseful…moment, and grabbed her arm.
 
She levitated off her seat, gasping, and
smacked his arm.
 
“Don’t
do
that!”
she whispered.

“But it’s fun.”

“
Evil!
”

“Uh, yeah.
Vampire.”

“Jerk,” she said,
smiling.

His hand still on
her arm, he trailed his fingers along her skin, goose bumps rising up in their
wake.
 
“I’m sorry for pissing you off
earlier.”

“Thought vampires
didn’t do apologies.”

He smiled,
self-consciously.
 
“Not often. So take it
while it counts. I’d rather see you smile.”

Confessions in
the dark?
 
“Going soft on me now?”
she teased.

That smirk came
back again.
 
“Quite the opposite.”

“
Naughty
.”

He looked down at
her fingers, tracing the veins.
 
“I’m
glad you took the gloves off.”
 
His
finger trailed from the valley between her ring and middle-finger knuckles up
to her shoulder, his eyes following the course to her neck.
 
“You’ve been turning every head tonight, you
know that? No, I bet you haven’t even realized…”

“William…”

“I don’t want to
turn you over to him,” he added with conviction.
 
It was said quietly, and he was still looking
over her shoulder, but there was no doubt he was serious about what he
said.
 
There was only a question of
why?

“Then don’t,” she
whispered.

His gaze flicked
from her eyes to her lips and back again.
 
She waited, holding her breath.
 
She didn’t know what he was going to do, or what she wanted him to
do.
 
He leaned in those few inches,
pausing just shy of kissing her to give her a chance to bolt.
 
She was still frozen.

He closed the gap,
his kiss gentle and achingly slow, full of longing, holding himself back for
her benefit.
 
She could feel it in the
tremor of his hand resting on the knob of her spine at the base of her neck,
resisting pulling her in and kissing her senseless.
 
It was a short kiss, maybe thirty seconds,
but it left her more aroused than their last session of practically mauling
each other.
 
They were touching
foreheads, breathing in each other’s breath, though only one of them needed to.

“Wanna get out of
here?” he murmured.

“We should see the
night through,” she said, her voice kind.

He nodded and sat
up straight, turning his attention forward.
 
She placed her left hand on his right where it sat on the armrest.
 
He looked at her in surprise, but she was
facing the stage.
 

The performance
had been well received and people were leaving in a good mood.
 
Those without other plans were heading for the
party.
 

William and
Catherine walked side-by-side, his hand on her back, like he was testing how
close he could get to wrapping his arm around her waist.
 
His thumb kept brushing the bare skin between
the laces of her dress, making her tingle.
 

The meeting space
had been transformed into an elegant ballroom, with champagne fountains and
hors d’oeuvres no one could pronounce.
 
A
three-piece band was already playing at one end of the room.
 
A few couples were swaying to the music.

“Do you actually
know anyone here?” she whispered.

“Don’t know. We
just walked in the door, love,” he said, teasing.
 
He steered her over to the refreshments.
 
“Champagne?”

“I’m underage,”
she hissed.

“Not in England.
Drinkin
’ age is eighteen.”
 
He handed her a flute.
 
“Sip it slowly. Most birds like the stuff.”

“I’m more interested
in dinner,” she grumbled.
 
Not that I
can fit anything in this dress.

He winked and
dropped a strawberry in her glass.
 
She
would’ve stuck her tongue out at him if they’d been somewhere less formal.

She followed him
around the room while he surveyed the crowd.
 
People noticed them—the man and the girl that had to be at least ten
years his junior.
 
At least, that’s what
she assumed they must have been thinking.
 
She would have fit more appropriately as someone’s daughter here, not a
handsome man’s date.
 

Natural predator
that he was, William both assessed every being in the room and held their
attention.
 
They couldn’t take their eyes
off the
great hunter
and his
trophy
.

“We’ve made a
circuit around the room; can we go now?” she asked.

He looked at her,
surprised.
 
“Not enjoying yourself?”

“Not when everyone
keeps staring at us!” she whispered back.

He sidled
closer.
 
“Hottest couple in the room,
love, why wouldn’t they?”

“Hello, ego? More
like they’re gossiping that I’m your trophy date.”

“Really…”

“William, even
with your immortality, you’re obviously at least ten years older than me.
People say things.”

He took her
hand.
 
“Well, let’s
give
‘em
something to talk about. Dance with me.”

“Oh, no…”
 
But he was already dragging her over to the
band to request a song.
 
The bandleader
nodded and counted off a Latin mambo beat.
 
“A Dean Martin song?”

“I know it’s not a
rhythm you’re used to, but follow my lead, hmm?”

“Will—”
 
She didn’t get a chance to say more before he
twirled her into his arms and started dancing.

When marimba
rhythms start to play

Dance with me,
make me sway…

The crowd parted
naturally for them, forming a circle to watch.

Okay, so he was
brilliant at this, somehow managing to make her look good in the process.
 
She lost awareness of everything but looking
into his eyes and obeying the commands of his body.
 
She hadn’t even stepped on her dress
yet.
 

…Only you have
the magic technique

When we sway I
go weak

Others were
joining them on the floor, now, not to be outdone, but they were on the edge of
awareness.
 
For a cold body, he was
giving off a lot of heat, and she knew his hands would be wandering right now
if they were somewhere else, or if she’d been wearing less.

…Make me thrill
as only you know how

Sway me smooth,
sway me now

The chorus and
refrain repeated as the song came to a close.
 
He dipped her quickly, pulling her back up against him.
 
She was breathing heavily.
 
Exertion, or lust?
 
“I think I need a drink,” she said
breathlessly.

He turned for the
bar.
 
“Can’t have you wilting, can we?”
he purred.

She could still
feel eyes on her back, only now they were daggers of envy.
 
There was a saying about men who could dance…

“Here you are,
kitten.”
 
He handed her a glass of clear
liquid.

“What is it?” she
asked suspiciously.

He chuckled.
 
“Spring water. Afraid I’ll get you drunk?”

She sipped the
water.
 
“The thought had occurred.”

He leaned in to
say, “Sweetheart, if I wanted to, I could seduce you stone cold sober, and you
know it.”

Her jaw dropped at
his audacity.
 
“As
if
!”

He shrugged,
unperturbed by her refusal.
 
“Protest all
you like… I’m going to go grab a smoke.”

Ha! Definitely
won’t be kissing you now!
she thought as he walked away.
 

At least she could
nibble while he was gone.

Sitting alone, the
party was pretty boring.
 
She checked her
lipstick and made sure she didn’t have food in her teeth.
 

She
people-watched.
 
The few couples that
looked happy together made her nostalgic for her family, the days when her
parents and grandfather were still alive, and every holiday meant a gathering
for feasting and love.
 
Grandma was stuck
in the past most of the time, now, thinking it was ten years ago, or more.
 

That pang for home
hit again.

She smiled as soon
as she saw him walking back.

“Miss me?” he
quipped.

“A little. I don’t
know anyone here, so I got bored.”

“We could dance
some more, if you like?”

“Okay.”

The band’s
repertoire was mainly songs you could sway to, so they casually joined the rest
on the dance floor.
 

Her chin on his
shoulder, their bodies gently swaying to the music, she could almost pretend
they were two normal people on a normal date.

“You’ve gone
quiet,” he said.

“Being in the
moment. Only two weeks left. This night has been a bit different than I
expected.”

“Hm. How so?”

“I expected more
testing, I guess. Minding my P’s and Q’s like Mrs. Crumb taught me.”

“Ah. Not really my
kind of scene anymore. I don’t typically run my business like a tyrant, hard as
that may be to believe.”

“Could’ve fooled
me with that whole drill sergeant routine. So, what…you’re normally a girl’s
friend?” she teased.