The By Request Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
shuddered. ‘Now you’re being mean. I thought we’d promised never to mention that New Year ever again.’
Luckily, before too many more embarrassing memories could be dredged up, a waitress stopped before them with a tray of kir royales, topped with raspberries. Flora took the glass Alex handed to her, thankful it was nothing more dangerous. ‘Happy Christmas,’ she said and raised her glass to him.
‘Happy Christmas, Flora.’ He toasted her back but the expression in his eyes was completely unreadable; his face wore the shuttered look she hated. It made him seem so far away. They only had tonight; she couldn’t say goodbye early. She wasn’t ready...
‘Dance with me?’
He looked up at that, surprised. ‘What? No one’s dancing. It’s still early.’
‘So? If I can ski a red run on my second day you can be the first person onto the dance floor.’
‘First couple,’ he corrected her. ‘There is no way on earth I would face that alone.’ But he didn’t demur any longer, holding his hand out to her and leading her to the centre of the room. There was a sudden hush as the other guests saw them step out but it was brief; the chatter starting up again as quickly as it had stopped.
* * *
Alex pulled her closer, one arm settling around her waist, the other clasping her hand. ‘If we must do an exhibition dance then I am, for the first time, thankful that Minerva insisted that the whole wedding party needed to learn to dance properly.’ It was a few years since the mandatory dance lessons but as he adjusted to the beat of the music it all began to come back. He could hear the teacher marking out the time as he had attempted to steer a mutinous Flora around the floor.
It was all so different now. She was pliant in his arms, letting him lead, her feet following his, her body at one with his—even if she did keep looking down at their feet.
‘I don’t remember you saying thank goodness at the time,’ she pointed out, pausing to count under her breath. ‘One two three, one two three. It’s a good job Minerva didn’t want us all to salsa though.’ She raised her eyes to his. They were luminous in the low light. ‘Can you imagine how we’d look trying to salsa to this? We’d have to just do that slightly awkward shuffle instead.’
He tightened his arm, enjoying the feel of her so close to him, knowing that she was completely compliant, allowing him to take control. ‘Did you know that the waltz was once considered scandalous?’
‘Was it? Why?’
He lowered his voice. ‘Just two people, a man, a woman, moving so closely together there’s barely any space between them. His arm holding her to him, her hand clasped in his. He can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, smell the shampoo in her hair. If he wanted to...’ He paused and looked directly into her upturned face, her mouth parted. ‘If he wanted to kiss her then all he has to do is bend his head.’
‘What if she didn’t want him to kiss her?’
‘Doesn’t she?’
‘Well...’ Her lips curved into an enticing smile. ‘Not in the middle of the dance floor. That really would cause a scandal. He would have to marry her if that happened.’
Alex blinked and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘In olden times I mean, silly. Don’t worry, that wasn’t a proposal.’
‘Of course not.’ But the words echoed round and round in his head. Then he would have to marry her.
* * *
The evening passed by in a quick blur as if someone had pressed fast forward. Alex lost Flora soon after their dance. Camilla whisked him away to meet, greet and act merry with the local dignitaries and influential industry movers and shakers while Flora was absorbed into a laughing group of revellers. The band switched to covers of popular songs and the dance floor was full.
But he could always find Flora; she stood out. Not just because of her height and her vibrant dress, but because she glowed as she moved across the floor.
He envied her even though he knew she deserved a carefree evening. He, on the other hand, was on his best behaviour, projecting the right image as he chatted to the VIPs Camilla needed him to impress.
Tomorrow it would all be over. This dazzling throng would pack away their finery ready for their trips home. He would return to Kent with Flora ready to resume their old friendship. Would it be enhanced by this week or tarnished? Maybe now they had given way to that old thrill of attraction they could move on—properly. She deserved a good man, someone to worship her, love her properly.
Alex folded his hands into tight fists, jealousy burning through him at the thought. How would he be able to stand there and smile as she held hands with another man, laughed up at another man, kissed another man?
There was only one way to bear it—to start thinking of his own future. A future beyond work and the need for success and recognition that had driven him so far, so fast. Was it so unthinkable that he too could have a long-term relationship? Maybe even marriage? Plenty of people had satisfactory, even successful lives together based on mutual respect and shared goals rather than passion and romance. Why not him?
He took another glass of kir royale from a passing waitress, mechanically nodding and smiling as the conversation around him turned to families and Christmas. His least favourite subject.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love spending the festive season with the Buckinghams. It wasn’t as if they ever treated him as anything but one of the family. They didn’t. He had been expected to muck in with the rest of them long before he’d started living there, peeling potatoes, setting the table, chopping logs for the fire—whatever was needed. Yes, they treated him like one of the family. But he wasn’t family.
His own family had cast him out and one day the Buckinghams would too. Not on purpose but time wouldn’t freeze. They wouldn’t all return to the small Kentish village for the festive season for ever. One day Minerva would want to host Christmas, or Horry, if he ever looked up from his scalpel long enough to have a relationship. Or Flora would. Would there be a place for him in the family then? In ten years? In twenty?
He downed his drink. The solution was simple. It was time he thought about creating his own place. His own traditions and memories. Somewhere he built so he couldn’t be cast out. The problem was he couldn’t imagine anyone beside him but Flora.
And she deserved more...
He took another glass from a passing tray. And he watched her, trying to ignore the unwanted leap his heart gave when she smiled over at him. A secret smile of complicity.
Yes, she deserved more. But would she get it?
The thing was, he decided as he finished one glass and swapped it for another, that good things didn’t always come to those who waited. After all, Flora hadn’t had much luck with her past boyfriends. Just because he was prepared to do the right thing and stand aside didn’t mean she would end up with someone who deserved her. It was all such a lottery. He could offer stability, space, affection. These were all good commodities in the trading place that was marriage. In return he would get a home. A place that was his.
It was a good trade.
Marriage.
Was he seriously thinking about it?
The room had darkened, the music quietening back to the classical waltzes so typical of Austria and the dance floor was now occupied by couples, the English swaying together awkwardly, the Austrians waltzing with the same grace he had admired on the ice rink and on the slopes.
Flora stood on the opposite side of the room, leaning against a chair and watching the dances, yearning on her face. Alex put his glass down and weaved his way over to her. He had drunk more than he usually allowed himself to; everything felt fuzzier, softer. Sweeter.
‘Hi, have you been released early?’
‘Time