Excerpt of All Gowned Up by Jen Haymore

He held himself very still, as if holding his breath, the sea-blue depths of his eyes vulnerable as he waited for my answer. He cared so much about my response that I could feel the air pulse with it. Nothing felt more real.

His warm hand gripping mine seemed to hold me on the earth, because I felt so dreamily light, if he wasn’t holding me so securely, I might float away, the heavy, warm wool of his fine coat useless in pinning me down.

At this moment, he struck me as more human than ever before. He was no pompous and formal aristocrat; he was flesh and bone. And all heart. That was what I loved most about him.

And his lips. His perfect lips. I loved those, too. Very much.

I wanted to kiss them.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he reached up and touched my cheek with his bare fingertip and then swiped it over my cheekbone to tuck a curl behind my ear. I watched him, unmoving, breathless, anticipation prickling every inch of my skin.

Ever so slowly, he slipped his arm below his coat and my cape and around my waist until his warm palm lay flat on my back, urging me toward him, which was exactly where I wanted to be. Moving closer, I reached up to press a hand against the fabric of his collar, my fingers brushing the silky edge of his cravat.

Something at the outer fringes of my mind nudged at me. Told me this was a very bad idea.

But stopping was the very last thing I wanted.

His face came closer, tilting slightly so our noses didn’t bump. Then he kissed me in a light touch that curled my toes and sent a tingling heat shivering through my body.

His arm tightened protectively around me, pressing our clasped hands between our chests like a conduit between our pounding hearts. I sank into the warmth and safeness and security and rightness of being so close to this boy. And the way his lips stroked over mine, so soft and sure—

Vaguely, a noise sounded behind me. I ignored it. But then an alarmed voice snapped me back into reality.

“Emerald?”

Will and I jerked apart, our wide eyes meeting for a second. He looked as stunned as I felt. I blinked once, then spun to face the intruder.

Tom stood there, staring at us with an astonished gaze that was quickly turning to dismay.

Will hadn’t completely let me go; he was still gripping my hand. Under his breath, he muttered a dark curse.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tom’s accusatory gaze flitted from me to Will, back and forth.

Kissing, obviously, was what I wanted to tell him. Instead, I asked, “What are you doing out here?”

His expression grew more upset by the second, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Will tried to let go of my hand, but I squeezed it tighter.

Tom’s narrowed eyes stopped on him. “Let go of her.”

Will stiffened. “I’m—”

“Emerald, step away from him.”

I ground my teeth. “You’re not my father, Tom. Not even my brother.”

“No, but clearly you need someone to play the part,” he snapped.

I released Will and turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am.” He looked at Tom. “Whatever you are thinking, it’s not true.”

“It isn’t, is it?” Tom sneered.

“No.”

“I doubt that.”

Will just stared at him, his chest heaving, a riot of emotions crossing over his face, the color high on his cheeks. As he parted his lips to speak, something told me that Tom was in no state to hear whatever he had to say.

“Go to your party. I’ll handle this.”

He turned to me, anxious eyes taking me in. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yes. I’ll see you soon.” Nothing would stop me from seeing him again. The idea of not seeing him again was unthinkable.

Copyright © Jennifer Haymore