A Kiss at Midnight

Chapter Eighteen

Quick Author's Note: Information revealed in this chapter is new to the world of A Kiss At Midnight. Also as the world is currently going through a pandemic, there is a content note for this chapter. The illnesses that were rampant during the Victorian Era were consumption and influenza and the latter is mentioned in this one as a cause of death to be forewarned, readers.

No strings could create the melody in this dance. Words instead were the heart's serenade. Uttered on lips for ears longing to hear such sweet notes. Words Ilona thought would never be hers to hear because when you are alone for so long, why would someone suddenly wish to take your hand? To run alongside you through the ever changing leaves of a forest.
His lips a feather-like caress against her lips as he spoke those simple yet the only ones that could free her heart from its cage. To let it flutter once again. "I would never let you go."

A sob tore from her lips.
"I spend many a night wondering if it was me, if I was the reason you didn't come back. That you may have found someone...else."

Carrick flinched, her words a series of blows to his heart. He reached up to stroke her cheek, his thumb lightly wiping away a tear.
"If I had known the truth, I would have crossed any ocean the instance that I could. Weathering countless storms and turbulent waves if it meant being able to return to your side."
A tremble in his voice. "Ilona, I desire only you."

Her hand grasped his wrist, not wishing to be parted from his touch. His words, a balm to soothe the ache in her chest.

His other hand slid around her waist, the fabric of her nightgown bunching beneath his grip. With a slight tilt of her head, Ilona closed all distance between them, pressing her lips to his. Carrick gave her bottom lip a gentle tug in an invitation she gladly accepted. The sweetness he long since craved was finally his to taste as his lips sealed over hers. His hand flattening on her cheek as he kissed her.

Then, slowly his fingers trailed down. To trace along her gently curving jawline. The brush of of lace upon the high, ivory neckline of her nightgown, a tantalising tease to what lay beneath. Grazing the delicate ridge of her collarbone before his hand swept upwards to cradle the back of her head as Ilona ended this melody, her lips pulling away. One hand on her chest, trying to reclaim the air his kiss siphoned away.

"Well," Ilona breathed out. "They do say to kiss the bride even if she just pretending to be one."

The corners of Carrick's mouth tugged upwards as he rested his forehead against hers. A faint tickle on her cheek and she went to tuck that errant curl of hers back only for him to get there first. His fingers closing over the curl, the backs of them the gentlest of caresses on her skin. Yet he made no attempt to draw it back.

"I want to see the true Ilona Bennett, the one who sits upon a fallen tree, her head tilted towards the warm caress of sunlight when her nose isn't buried in a book. Who will happily glide across a ballroom in a gown of the finest silk while at the same time will leap over a puddle to make a pompous ass of a lord's son smile." His voice soft.

Red spots blossoming on her cheeks. "I was under the impression you hadn't hear me call you such a thing."

His lips curved into a smile. "I am glad you did. Your presence in my life changed me, Ilona so much for the better. I don't wish to hide in the shadows more."

Instead of the curl, he drew his lips to the shell of her ear. "I want to take those moonlight strolls, you spoke of before. One less set of petticoats or perhaps none at all."
The words written upon her skin and Ilona's breath hitched. Her mind flooded with images as she turned her head towards him.
The pale moonlight, a diaphanous blanket.
Tangled limbs nestled amongst fallen leaves of horse-chestnut and oak.
Her lips parting on a soft gasp.
Her back arching.