by AH Jaekel
She was freezing! With an irritated grumble, Lauren shifted her weight from one foot to the other, hands buried deep within the pockets of her woollen coat. She had been waiting in front of the cinema for what felt like hoursâand in icy cold, no less. Obviously, Chris had forgotten about their date.
With her sigh, a tiny cloud of vapour left Laurenâs lips. It hung sluggishly in the air, only evaporating when Lauren stepped through it, head bowed low. Her stride was determined; the course she took, however, was by no means a direct route home. Despite the freaking cold, she wasnât going to take the shortcut across the graveyard and around the back of the train station. Not in the wintry darkness, all on her own.
When Lauren finally took the last turn to enter Westford Alley, she fished for her keys in her coat pocketâand stepped onto an icy patch of uneven ground. A helpless flailing of her arms, her mouth opened in a surprised âOh!â and she fell backwards.
The expected impact never came. Instead, she was caught by two strong arms, wrapped around her from behind. Grateful as she was for this ârescue,â Lauren freed herself from the involuntary hug as soon as she had regained a firm stance.
She met no resistance; her saviourâs arms gave way immediately, never attempting to hold her back. Still, Lauren sucked in a breath and whirled around. She hadnât noticed anyone behind her, so the mere presence of another person was startling.
The middle-aged man she faced swept off his top hat, holding it elegantly in front of his body with remarkably well-groomed hands as he bowed. The term âgentlemanâ sprang to mind at the antiquated gesture.
âMy sincerest apologies if I have startled you, milady,â the stranger spoke in a comforting, musical voice.
A shiver went through Lauren, and a feeling of warmth spread from the hollow of her throat. âIt . . . itâs okay,â she heard herself stammer. âI guess I should be glad you were there. Many thanks.â
âIt was my pleasure.â With the hint of a mischievous smile, the man put his top hat back on with a practised-looking movement.
Laurenâs inner voice urged her to politely say goodbye and walk the last short bit home, but she couldnât take her eyes off the dark-clad figure in front of her. Magically drawn to him, her gaze travelled from the top hat down to the heavy coat, whose top buttons were undone far enough to reveal the neatly tied bow of a cravat. The peculiar pictureâfor who wore wing collars and cravats any more these days?âwas completed by elegant leather shoes that were polished to a shine.
Aside from the idiosyncrasy of the strangerâs clothing style, how on earth could he catch her in full swing without losing his own footing on his slippery leather soles?
© AH Jaekel 2024-03-10