Kissed at Midnight (15 page)

By the time August returned from the tunnel site, it was
dark. Lamps lit the streets and it had begun to rain, leaving deep puddles
amongst the cobbles. They reflected the glow of the gas lamps. Glittering rain
drops speckled the window. Ivy sighed. They might be into summer now but it
hardly looked like it—not that rainfall was unusual in England but she prayed
the rain didn’t linger. Being inside all day with Elsie was certainly trying.

She wrapped her shawl
tightly about herself and watched the carriage draw up. She shouldn’t smile,
but she couldn’t help it when August alighted from the vehicle only to be
accosted by a woman with an umbrella. Though she could not see the woman’s
face, she knew well who it was.

Mrs Pepperwhite. The woman
had tenacity, she would give her that, but she knew August well enough now to
know he held little affection for her and even less tolerance. Poor man.

Ivy waited a few moments
while they conversed before deciding to rescue him. She wasn’t sure he deserved
it. He had spent the entire week being his usual fusty self, pretending nothing
had happened between them and seeming immune to her. Why would he not allow
himself just a few moments of pleasure? She swore he would work himself into an
early grave if he wasn’t careful. But the past week had done one thing. It had changed
her motivations.

Before they had been purely
selfish. A desire for affection and the overwhelming sensations he brought out
in her drove her. But now it was something else. She longed to help him find
enjoyment in life outside of work. He could find enjoyment with her, she was
sure of it.

Even if it was only brief.

Oh goodness, there she went
again. She thrust that thought aside. Ivy Davis, the famous singer. That was
her dream, was it not? It certainly wasn’t to spend the rest of her days being
Elsie’s governess and August’s mistress. And what if he did marry? She pressed
a hand to her mouth. Oh dear, that would be awful. She definitely wouldn’t be
able to stay under the same roof as him. Better she have those few moments of
excitement to keep her going while she pursued her career.

Ivy pulled open the door
with little finesse, hoping the thud of the door would catch their attention.
August glanced her way, his blue eyes seeming to penetrate the gloom and her
heart squeezed, as though he had shot an arrow from those beautiful eyes.

Mrs Pepperwhite either
hadn’t noticed her or was determined not to. The woman motioned with her hand
and appeared aggravated. No doubt she wished August to solve whatever problem
was plaguing her. She supposed she couldn’t blame her. If there was ever a more
capable man than August, she’d certainly never met him.

“August,” she called and
realised her mistake when Mrs Pepperwhite drew back her umbrella enough to
shoot a narrowed gaze her way.

“Sir,” she tried again,
feeling warmth rush into her cheeks. “Elsie needs you.”

He nodded in her direction
but before leaving he pressed a hand to Mrs Pepperwhite’s arm. Ivy clenched her
teeth together and this time the warmth was uncomfortable and centred down low
in her stomach. She had to look away from the brief touch and stare at the
swirling iron railings of the steps.

When he moved away from the
woman, Ivy braved a look at him. He came up the steps, rain dripping from the
brim of his hat and greeted her in his usual manner.

“Get inside, Ivy. It’s
bloody miserable out here.”

She stepped back and allowed
him to press past and shut the door. He removed his hat and shoved a hand
through his hair to neaten it but it only tousled the dark strands further,
making her want to push her fingers through it too.

“What does Elsie want?”

“She’s fine. She’s asleep. I
thought you might want...”

A flash of a grin broke his
face and another tumult of something tumbled through her. It was quite weary,
his effect on her. She could hardly keep up with what would happen next.
Perhaps her insides would do a full flip or she’d have a heart attack. All she
knew was that if she did not find a solution soon, she might end up in the
grave or bedlam.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,
but for once I didn’t mind speaking with Mrs Pepperwhite. I have some news that
you might find exciting.”

“Oh?”

His eyes twinkled and she
narrowed her gaze at him. August took his time removing his coat and hanging
it. It seemed he wished to torture her further.  “Shall we?” He motioned to the
drawing room.

“You are mysterious,
August.” He didn’t say anything else, so she relented. “Very well then.”

Facing him, Ivy waited for
him to sit but instead he went to stand by the empty fire. He rested his palm
on the mantelpiece then scowled. Drawing out his pocket watch, he eyed it for a
moment before flicking open the front of the mantle clock and adjusting the
minute hand by a fraction. Ivy clenched her hands until her nails dug into her
hands. He was teasing her—and enjoying it by the small grin on his face.

“Well?”

“How would you like to
perform at the Grandbury gathering?”

Iciness darted through her.
Her mouth fell open. “Perform?”

His brows rose a little.
“Yes. As in sing.”

“But... why?”

“It seems the singer they
were hoping would be coming over from France has fallen sick and they have need
of a replacement. Mrs Pepperwhite was availing me as to the dilemma and I told
her I knew just the woman.”

“Me?”

“Yes, though I didn’t say as
much.”

If Ivy hadn’t been so
shocked or filled with... horror?... she might have giggled at this. Mrs
Pepperwhite would be annoyed indeed to find out the woman August had offered as
a replacement was a mere governess.

“B-but I’m hardly suited
to... to...” She waved a hand.

“Ivy, I thought you were
desperately searching for opportunities like this.” His brows dipped and a
crease appeared between them. “I thought I was doing you quite the favour. I
thought you’d be happy.”

“N-no I am, it’s just
that... I am ill-practiced.”

The excuse sounded weak on
her tongue. The thought of performing to all those people filled her with
dread. At such a prestigious event too. She had been convinced it was merely
the setting for the auditions that had made her freeze and it would just take a
different event for her to be able to sing in front of people, but now she
realised that was not it. She simply could not sing for anyone apart from
herself, her old singing teacher and little Elsie, it seemed.

Oh dear, what a failure she
was. She felt as though all the air had left her body. Gaze lowered to the
carpet, she eyed the golden fleur-de-lys pattern. Slightly muddy shoes spoiled
her view. Mrs Cartwright would not be happy about that. When she lifted her
gaze, she found August barely a pace away. He put his hands to her shoulders
and studied her with a frank expression.

“What’s wrong, Ivy?”

She swallowed. Could she
really admit it to him? She had hardly wanted to admit it to herself. And now
it seemed he was keen to get rid of her. Apparently she had been making a pest
of herself. Now she saw herself as he did and realised what he had been
contending with. A young, naive woman near throwing herself at him. He surely
had the patience of a saint to have continued to bear it.

“Ivy?” he persisted.

“I... I don’t know if I can
do it.”

“Do what?”

“Sing.”

“Ah.” He released her arms.
“You have a beautiful voice. It seems a shame to waste it.”

“I struggled to perform at
two auditions in London. I thought... I don’t really know what I thought, but I
hoped it would not happen again. Now I realise I simply cannot.”

“Stage-fright.”

“Pardon?”

“You have stage-fright. It’s
when a performer finds themselves terrified to perform and often causes them to
be unable to.”

“So it’s like an illness? I
might never be able to overcome it?”

“No, not an illness.” His
face softened and he took her arms again. “Ivy, you are the most courageous
woman I’ve ever met. I have no doubt you can overcome this.”

Some strength returned to
her at his words. He didn’t seem aggravated with her or annoyed at her presence,
but still, she needed to know. “You wish to be rid of me as soon as you can, do
you not?”

“Hardly. What shall I do
with Elsie when you are gone? But, regardless, you have the gift of a beautiful
voice and I would not hold you back from your dreams.”

Relief washed over her. He
did not want her gone as quickly as possible. How could she have thought that?
August was the most caring man she had ever met, in spite of his gruffness.

“I appreciate your offer,
August, but I cannot do it,” she said softly.

“We have—what?—five days
until the event. Surely with my help you can overcome it? You can’t pass up
this offer. I won’t let you.”

His grip grew tight on her
arms but it wasn’t painful, simply supportive. She felt his determination
thread into her and she lifted her chin. “I suppose maybe I should at least
try.”

Something hesitant flickered
in his gaze before he released her and smiled. “Excellent. You can start now.”

August backed away and sat,
leisurely bringing one ankle up to rest on his knee as though he had not just asked
her to do the thing that terrified her most.

“N-now?”

“Yes. Sing to me.”

Her stomach threatened to
drop to her toes. She could not be sure, but it felt like her throat had closed
over. Her tongue was dry and she trembled. Clasping her hands in front of her,
she tried to clear her throat but it was no good.

“I cannot,” she said,
hearing the hysteria seep into her voice.

“You can.” His was low and
soothing. “I’ve heard some performers imagine their audience naked. It gives them
a sense of control, I believe.”

Ivy let her eyes widen. She
attempted to draw in a breath through her constricted throat. Imagine him
naked? Oh no, that would not help. And now she was doing it. Oh dear, oh no.
She was stripping him of his waistcoat and unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands
were against his taut skin, feeling the rippling response of his muscles. Now
her fingers came to his trousers and were pulling them down and off. Next came
his drawers.

In reality, her gaze was
fixed to the front of his trousers and if she wasn’t much mistaken, his growing
arousal that tented the black fabric wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Images
of his shaft, hard and pulsing and then his beautiful rear, that she had only
glimpsed briefly floated in front of her gaze. She licked her lips.

“Ivy,” he near growled.

She lifted her gaze to his,
startled. He knew what she was thinking. How mortifying.

“Stop it,” he told her.

“I cannot seem to.”

“You’re meant to be
singing.”

“You told me to imagine...
imagine you naked! This is your fault!”

“I didn’t mean for you to
imagine
me
.”

“Well, it’s too late now!”

August stood suddenly and
closed the distance. Gone was his relaxed demeanour or the lazy smile. Tension
simmered from his form and made the air thick. If she’d been struggling to
breathe before, she feared she was on the verge of suffocation now.

His gaze dropped to her
lips. “I shouldn’t ask... Damn it all. What are you thinking of?” She opened
her mouth, not entirely sure what she was going to reply with but he held up a
hand. “No, don’t tell me. I know already.”

Oh Lord, was he trying to
drown her in desire? He knew what she was thinking so was he imagining the
same?

“Kiss me,” she begged. It
wasn’t seemly or proper to beg. It felt like all she’d been doing recently was
begging for his touch, yet the words dropped from her mouth before she could
stop them.

“Sing for me,” he countered.

Ivy stilled at this. “And
you will kiss me?”

August rubbed his forehead
and a reluctant smile came across his face. “Will you sing for me?”

“Maybe,” she said coyly.

“A kiss for a song.”

“Is that all I get?”

“Yes,” he said tightly.

Perhaps she should negotiate
harder but a kiss could lead to more. Much more. She drew in a deep breath and
cleared her throat. But no noise would come—not while he was standing in front
of her.

“I cannot.”

“Close your eyes.”

She did as he commanded but
the heat from his body seemed to leap across the gap between them, building
tension inside her. She opened her mouth again then clamped her mouth shut.

In the darkness behind her
eyelids, her fantasies were able to take flight again. August touching her all
over and then... then her on stage singing to thousands. Their rapturous
applause. Then there were footsteps, hands coming to her arms, then up to her
shoulders. He really was touching her. Not in the manner she really wanted, but
warmth rolled through her tense muscles as he massaged her shoulders and the
base of her neck. Clever thumbs worked into the stiffness there until she
released a sigh.