He clasped his hands behind his back, keeping his own card hidden.
They exchanged pleasantries, and while Desmond managed to maintain a polite demeanor, it was not long before he was wishing he had left earlier. The young woman chattered endlessly on numerous topics, even without his participation, and it seemed she meant to continue until the sun rose.
Now there was little hope of easily extricating himself, unless he found another acquaintance strolling by, or by feigning an ailment of some sort…
"There you are! When you said 'meet me at the mistletoe', I had no idea there would be so many possible venues to search."
Desmond's head lifted sharply, the playful tone of voice catching his attention. In the next instant he was swamped with relief at seeing the red-edged card in the new arrival's hand. The evening had not been a waste after all.
"My apologies." Desmond held his card aloft, adding a grin. "I hoped this proved helpful in narrowing down the possibilities."
"It did, indeed." She sidled closer to him, captivating him with her genuine smile. She placed her half of the card against his so the torn edges fit together. "Perfectly matched."
The other woman quickly comprehended that she had become an unnecessary party. She sighed dramatically and then flounced off, muttering about her misfortune.
"I am indebted to you," Desmond said. "I was in the midst of preparing a dramatic exit and then you appeared just in time to rescue me."
She laughed. It was such a distinctive sound, a genuine expression of mirth, not a practiced trill meant to highlight her feminine wiles. He would have to send a magnificent gift to Martin, extolling his matchmaking skills, the ones he had so recently doubted.
Her green eyes twinkled with mischief. "Perhaps you should keep that dramatic exit in reserve. Our cards were perfectly matched, but we might not be."
"I cannot imagine such a possibility." He lifted her gloved hand to his lips. "It is a genuine pleasure to meet you. What name shall I call you?"
She tilted her head, as if deciding what name she would give him. It gave Desmond time to appreciate the auburn tendrils that had escaped her topknot, as well as the sprinkling of freckles across her pert nose. Her lips lifted in another intriguing smile. "You could call me Lorelei."
This time it was his lips that curved upwards. "How perfect. Lorelei. The temptress."
"A man who knows his mythology. And what name will you use this evening?"
He hesitated. Did he give her a playful answer, as she had so obviously done? He had no doubt he could ask Martin who she was, since he was the one who had ensured they met. He also had no doubt that he wanted to see her again, so he told her his real name.
"You must call me Desmond."
"Desmond. I am overjoyed to make your acquaintance."
She gazed directly at him as she spoke the words. Her boldness was intoxicating. A heady blend of passion and expectation sped through every particle of his being.
He was tempted to ask if she would remove her mask, so he could see her face completely. But he decided to wait. He was enjoying her enjoyment of the moment. There was no need to rush anything.
"Perhaps we should commemorate our meeting with a kiss." Desmond pointed to the mistletoe above them. "It is a tradition, after all."
"It is bad luck to refuse a kiss." She moved closer until her lips were hovering near his. "Once all the berries are gone, there can be no more kisses."
He almost looked up to ensure there was an abundance of the white fruit, but he was unable to tear his gaze away from her. He also wanted to prolong this first kiss, reveling in the anticipation.
Impatience finally got the best of him. He leaned forward slightly and his lips met hers.
He meant it to be a brief kiss, an introduction of sorts, as well as an acknowledgment that they were still in a rather public spot. But she was so responsive that he did not know when he might end it. Her hands rested against his chest. She was not pushing him away, however. One hand clasped his lapel to ensure he did not retreat.
He finally managed to pull away, gratified when she bit her lip in disappointment. He grinned and reached up to pluck one of the mistletoe berries. "There are quite enough here to last the evening without need for rationing. Though I best ensure no one else saunters over for a kiss."
"I am certain I can stave them off. After all, I did rescue you once already."
Indeed she had.
Still, he wanted to converse with her without everyone milling about, tossing curious glances their direction. He also wanted more kisses and he did not want their newfound attraction to become the center of attention.
"Would you be amenable to a more private locale? I see a quiet nook nearby where we can converse."
Lorelei glanced over her shoulder, to the spot he had indicated with a nod of his head. "I suppose this is when I should warn you about unscrupulous behavior."
He pretended to frown. "I appreciate the warning, but I did not expect you to indulge in any sort of unscrupulous behavior."
As he'd hoped, it elicited another of her delightful laughs. Her expression was an intoxicating blend of amusement and indulgence, all of it directed at him.
"You have nothing to fear from me, Lorelei the temptress." He wanted to convince her of his sincerity, yet did not want to appear too serious. "I mean you no harm, and if I ever contemplated such a thing, the matchmaking earl himself would thrash me within an inch of my life."
He had unconsciously placed his hand on his heart during his speech. She lightly placed hers atop his and whispered, "There might not be anything left for him to thrash once I am done with you."
His burst of laughter caught everyone's attention. "Now that I am in fear for my life, I wonder if I dare to ask for another kiss?"
"Bring the mistletoe," she said with a grin, "and we shall determine how brave you can be."
Desmond reached up and removed the greenery from its fastening. He sighed with contentment when he saw just how many berries it contained.
His heart danced with eagerness at the numerous kisses they would share that evening.
Lorelei grinned at her handsome suitor as he led her to a nearby niche, intended for just such a lovers' hideaway. There was a small sofa, designed for two, as well as a branch of candles on tables at either side, illuminating while also creating intimate shadows. They could still view the dancers, and hear the orchestra, but tucked away as they were allowed for quieter conversation—as well as kissing.
He held her hand so gently, as if he was carrying a precious gift, and ensured she was seated before he sat down. Her heart fluttered, signaling how amenable it was to commence a flirtatious amour—those delicious moments that made life so enjoyable, brief as they always were.
"I wish I had thought to procure some wine," Desmond said. "Yet I cannot leave and risk that someone else will be attending you when I return."
She bit back a smile. "And I cannot go to seek out refreshment. For if I were to return and discovered you had expired, all because Miss Chatterling was here detailing her latest exploits—"
He pretended to shudder. "No, that will not do at all. We shall have to prepare better the next time."
That sent a frisson of excitement racing along her spine, though she knew how fruitless it was to consider the possibility of a next time. Best to enjoy the moments presented to her now.