That comment earned him a lovely smile.
They left the music room and traversed a corridor lined by a rug of cream and gold scrollwork, bordered in black. Christopher took Katerina's arm and placed it around his, laying his hand on top of hers, where it rested on his bicep.
“Well, Mr. Bennett,” Katerina said softly once they were out of earshot, “I'm
rather surprised to see you this evening.”
He glanced at her, frowning. “Why would you be? I told you I would come.”
“Yes, you did,” she replied, her expression nervous but otherwise unreadable.
Why so shy, sweet girl? He patted her hand gently. “Did you think I would break my word?”
“I wouldn't hold it against you if you did.”
She's more than shy. She simply accepts that no one could possibly want to
spend time with her. Well, she's wrong. “That would have been unmannerly,” he explained, trying for a neutral response. Confused, affectionate feelings welled up in him, and he continued, his voice growing intense. “Besides, I wanted to see
you.”
“You did? Why?” This time she spoke with unadorned disbelief.
“Why not?”
Katerina opened her mouth, her hand fluttering around her face. Then, she fell silent, her head dropping as though the carpet fascinated her.
He stopped walking and turned to face her. Removing his hand from hers, he
tucked one knuckle under her chin and lifted it gently. Sudden connection flared
between them. I honestly want to know you, he thought, trying to send a wordless message directly to her heart. To touch you. To kiss you.
Her eyes widened.
His thumb touched her full lower lip.
She winced.
“What is it?”
She smiled ruefully. “Oh, it's nothing. I bit my lip earlier. It still stings a little.”
He looked closer at the tiny red imprint with its bruised, purple outline.
“Sorry.”
“It's fine,” Katerina replied, still smiling.
“Miss Valentino…” Christopher began.
“You don't have to,” she interrupted.
“Have to what?” he asked.
“Call me that. I think… I think I would like to be your friend.” Her teeth fell
into the scab on her lip as she sucked air into her lungs.
Christopher could only blink in silent shock. “So, I should call you Katerina
then?” he asked at last.
“Yes, please.” Her cheeks turned pink, but her gaze remained steady.
She does want this little intimacy. Good. So do I. “My name is Christopher, you know,” he pointed out.
“Yes, your mother told me. May I?” Her shy expression spoke volumes of
insecurity.
“Certainly.”
She smiled at him. Beamed, actually, her face lighting up like a star in the night. His hand still rested on her face, and she leaned her cheek against him.
Her warm, soft touch elicited words in complete comfort that should have
evoked nerves. “What would you say, Katerina, if I asked you to accompany me
