Tucking my hands beneath my thighs, I take a deep breath. “I enjoyed myself, but I made the error of bein’ presumptuous. Perhaps it wasn’t enjoyable for you. If that’s true, we can pretend tonight never happened.”
His head jerks my way. “It was enjoyable.” His hazel eyes blink but remain steadfast on me. “It was very enjoyable.”
The gruff tone of his words sends a thrill down my spine. I can only nod and wait for him to give me an answer to my proposition.
And then, finally, he does. “I’ll agree. Under one stipulation.”
My eyes narrow. I should’ve known there would be a stipulation. “And that would be?”
Livingston faces me. “As much as you may want to, you can’t fall in love with me.”
I can’t help the unladylike snort that slips from my mouth. “There’s no problem of that happenin’.”
It almost happened once before. I can fight it a second time.
“You seem confident.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anythin’ in my entire life,” I reply, using his own words.
Playfully, Livingston taps me underneath my chin. “You sure ’bout that, darlin’?”
“Lacroix, you climbed through my window. It seems to me that you’re in danger of fallin’ in love with me.”
“Yet you want me to keep comin’ back,” he counters.
“I won’t fall in love with you,” I say, making sure to utter each word slowly.
There’s no sense in denying the attraction between us, but love? I won’t let it happen. For Livingston, it’s not out the question to expect a woman to fall in love. It happens time and again for him.
“Shall we shake on it?” I propose.
The corner of his mouth curves up into a half-smirk. “Shake?” Without another word, he leans in and kisses me soundly. I hum my approval. This is much better than shaking hands. When he pulls away, he brushes his finger against my lower lip. “Can’t go back now, le savauge. You kissed on it.”
Why does my heart beat a bit faster at those words? Why do I find myself leaning in closer?
Right then, Livingston looks at my pillows behind us. His body betrays him as he yawns, and his eyes fight to stay open. Sitting up straight, I look at him closely. “Tired?”
Sighing, he sinks his hands through his hair before they drop heavily between his legs. His head swings in my direction. He gives me an exhausted smile. “I haven’t been sleepin’ properly.”
“Does properly mean not at all?” I ask with a small smile.
Livingston chuckles. The sound gives me butterflies. “Yes, it does.”
Nodding, I look away, carefully choosing my next words. Several times, my mouth opens, then shuts. Words are ready to roll from my tongue, but I stop myself.
Livingston stares intently at the floor as though the answer to all his problems are between the cracks of the floorboards. I’ve stared at this floor many times myself. The resolution isn’t there.
“You can tell me what is on your mind.” I pause. “If you desire to do so.”
For a long time, it’s been apparent something’s wrong with Livingston. Him confessing he doesn’t sleep confirms it. I don’t like to see Livingston hurt or fighting his inner demons because I don’t know how to fix the problem.
I remember when I received the news that he was left for dead on a sidewalk in Charleston. I thought for a fearful second I was going to lose someone far too important to me.
“Thank you, Rainey.” He places his hand on my leg and gives my knee a reassuring pat. But then his hand stays put, fingers splayed across my knee. I can feel his palm nearly burning a hole through my nightgown.
He looks down, staring at his large hand on my thigh. I stare with him. I know too much about him. I know how he earned the scar on the middle fingernail of his right hand. Étienne and Miles accidentally slammed it in a barn door on Belgrave property when they were ten. If you asked Livingston to tell the story, he’d end it by saying he never cried. Étienne and Miles would say differently. When his nail grew back, there was a small depression in the nail bed and a longer scar on the inside of his finger.
I know too much about him for this to mean nothing. I need to rescind our agreement.
My lips remained closed. I don’t move. I don’t breathe because I know when I do it’s going to break this moment, and then he will leave, and tonight will be over. I’m not prepared for that yet. Being alone with him, in the dark, is peaceful. How I felt in the ballroom when he kissed me is the emotion that came over me the minute he stepped through my bedroom window.
There are no bachelors to choose from, no looming debts to pay, and the pain of losing Miles doesn’t feel as sharp. And I think, for Livingston, that whatever haunts him persistently is alleviated. As he sits beside me his hair is in disorder from my hands running through it. Strands fall over across his forehead, but the tension around his brows and around the corners of his eyes aren’t as pronounced. He looks peaceful and collected. Almost boyish. The longer we sit here in silence, my heart breaks.
Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how I can help you.
As though he can sense my thoughts, Livingston pulls his hand away. His eyes are uncharacteristically solemn as he briefly looks at me, almost pleading for me not to say anything, and stands up. “I should be goin’.”
“Yes, yes,” I rush out and stand after him. “It’s late.”
With my hands linked behind my back, I walk him to my window as though this sort of thing occurs frequently. Before he opens the window, Livingston turns back to me. The short walk across my room has given him a chance to retreat back into himself.
“I will see you soon?” he asks.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Yes. I hope so.”
“Good night, le savauge.” I can imagine the impish gleam in his eyes right before he says those words and disappears through the window.
Smiling, I close the window behind him and walk back to my bed feeling dazed and out of sorts. Sleep is out of the question, but I make myself comfortable and bury myself in my sheets as tonight replays through my head.
In every possible way, Livingston and I are a terrible match. I wake up early, and Livingston sleeps the day away. He shirks his duties, while I prefer to be on time to every event. Livingston is Charleston’s number one womanizer. I am Charleston’s untamed debutante.
For some reason, though, there is an attraction between us. I denied the first kiss and the second.
God help me for anticipating the third kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rainey
The next night, I pace my bedroom floor with my robe billowing behind me.
Livingston agreed to come, but what if he’s changed his mind?
There’s a significant chance he’s thought this over and realized what a terrible idea it is. I know I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, but did I have regrets? Did I want to abort tonight? Absolutely not. My heart raced at the very idea of seeing him, and I thought about it all day. Even during my dinner with one of my bachelors, Sean Atwood. He was kind and kept a steady flow of conversation. Slightly pompous but had an amiable sense of humor. I did my best to remain present during dinner, and right when I thought Livingston was off my mind, I would see a man out of the corner of my eye in the restaurant who I swore looked identical to Livingston.