As her mind caught up with her mouth, Mira grew still. She stared at Nicholas with wide, worried eyes, wondering if he had caught her slip.
The sudden silver fire in his eyes told her he had.
“What did you say?” His voice resonated with a low, vital energy.
“Hmmm?”
“You heard me, Mira-mine. Did you just say that you love me?”
Mira looked down at her hands as her insides turned to water. She had said it—and meant it—and he had heard her. There was no point denying her feelings. But what if he took a disgust of her, thought her weak and clinging? What if he found it amusing that he should have such power over her?
Marshaling all her courage, she raised her eyes to meet his. “Yes, Nicholas. I did say that.”
A breathless silence ensued, both Nicholas and Mira standing unnaturally still in a magic circle of their own. The laughing and singing and music of the festival seemed far away, and only the pixie-light of the bonfire offered any evidence that they were not utterly alone.
“Then why are you leaving?” Nicholas whispered.
Mira frowned. “Leaving? I am not leaving.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “I heard George give you the money to leave. I heard you take it.”
“He gave me the money, and the choice. I could hardly refuse his generosity. And I admit that I gave his offer some thought. But I decided against it. I decided to stay.”
“But I stopped at your room this evening, thinking to tell you about my father then, and I saw that your bags were packed. There were trunks and valises piled nearly to the ceiling in your room.”
Now Mira shook her head. “My bags were not packed, sir. The bags must have been Bella’s.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mira bit her lip, reluctant to break Bella’s confidence. She needed to explain the baggage in her room to Nicholas, however, and she did not think he would try to interfere with the elopement. After all, he had once offered to give up his own bride, to be jilted and played for a fool, in order to allow Jeremy to elope with the girl of his heart.
“Bella and Jeremy are planning to elope tonight,” she explained with an apologetic shrug. “Bella asked me if she could hide her baggage away in my bedroom. I told her I did not think it was necessary, and that I did not want to be involved. But she insisted. And I just could not bring myself to deny her,” she added with a small smile of apology. “I confess that with everything that has happened in the last few days, I had almost forgotten about that aspect of her plan. And I was not certain whether the elopement would actually happen, or whether one of them would come to their senses. But apparently she went ahead and had her bags moved to my room after I left. No wonder she was late coming downstairs this evening.”
“Bella. Bella is the one who is leaving?” Nicholas sounded dazed, as if he could not quite grasp what Mira was trying to tell him.
“Yes, Bella and Jeremy. Not me.”
Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, his entire body sagging with relief. But then he opened his eyes, and a sly smile crept across his face. “Well, that is an interesting turn of events. Beatrix will not be pleased in the least.”
“No, she will not be happy. She seems to dislike poor Bella immensely. And Aunt Kitty will not be happy either.”
“No?”
“No.”
Nicholas cocked a questioning brow.
“No money,” Mira replied.
“Ah.” He shook his head, visibly shifting his attention back to more immediate concerns. His smile turned warm and intimate. “So, you are staying and you love me?”
Mira’s breath caught in her throat.
“Yes,” she whispered. The frightful promise of the moment, the dread and terror and hope all tangled together, left her feeling strangely calm, every sense attuned to Nicholas, focusing on how he would react.
He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his smoldering smile unwavering, his eyes burning into her. But he said nothing. Finally, he reached out one hand to stroke a wayward curl of her hair.
“Have I mentioned how lovely you look tonight?” His voice was velvet.
Mira shook her head.
His hand trailed down to brush her shoulder, following the broad, deep neckline of her gown. “You look like Aphrodite rising from the sea,” he said, quirking one eyebrow at his own whimsy, “all waves and fire and soft, creamy skin. Lovely.”