Gilt by Katherine Longshore

his words, and sometimes more.
    “When I was little,” I told him, “I used to pretend that the arch in the oak trees was a gateway to the fairy world. I could walk through there and be in the forest where the leaves changed the color of the light and the bluebells formed a carpet more luxurious than anything produced by man. I always felt it was there that I truly belonged because noone expected anything of me. No one told me what to do or what I wanted or who I was. No one told me I wasn’t good enough.”
    I took his hand from where he held it behind his back and smiled.
    “A magical gateway.” He sounded dubious.
    I nodded. It was my turn to feel embarrassed.
    “That is something I must experience for myself.” He began to run up through the orchard, pulling me with him. Elation and terror mixed within me. The sun illuminated the arch like a golden door, and when we reached it, William swept me up into his arms to carry me through.
    The light patterned through the leaves like stained glass. William set me down but didn’t take his hands from my waist. The fairies must surely have lived there, for I forgot, in an instant, all that had happened in that forest.
    “This will be our special place,” he said, his gaze so keen I lost sight of the sun itself. “No one here will tell you that you aren’t good enough.” The dappled sunlight played across his features, chasing the emotions that sped from elation to confusion to determination. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
    For one startled moment, I stared directly into both of his gray-blue eyes, then I closed my own and kissed him back. A kiss that dissolved with spice and sweetness on the tongue.
    My arms ached to wrap around him, but I didn’t know how.His waist? His neck? Could I run my fingers through his hair? In the end, I stood still, arms straight at my sides and fingers splayed.
    William stepped back and looked at me, blinking surprise.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “I’m not.” Something about him drew the truth out of me.
    “I have no prospects. I’m nobody. I have nothing to offer you.”
    “Neither have I. I have no family connections. I will bring no dowry. We’re equals.” The word ignited something in me. We were the same. The wonder of it made me smile.
    But William didn’t. Deep in the shadows of that shrouded wood, the expression that crossed his face combined anxiety with a half dose of despair. But his eyes still held hope. Just a shred of it.
    “I am dependent upon the duke,” he said. “My loyalty to him is based solely on need. The need to make the right connections.”
    I nodded. The sunlit warmth had fled from my body, and I shivered. I was not the right connection.
    “He knows this,” William continued. “And doesn’t let me forget it. That my choices are not entirely my own. But you’re related to the dowager duchess?”
    “Distantly,” I said. “Very, very distantly.”
    “He couldn’t say no,” William said quietly.
    To what?
I wanted to ask, but held my tongue. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
    “When I first saw you, at that banquet, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he said.
    I remembered. With a blush.
    “You were so different from the others.”
    So much taller. So much more awkward.
    “So much more real.” William took my hands in his. “You didn’t preen or simper or bat your eyes. You didn’t wear cream to make your skin pale or paint your cheeks. You wore a plain gown.”
    I had to.
    “You didn’t flirt with the duke when you served him.”
    Ew
.
    “In fact, it appeared you couldn’t get away from him quickly enough. Despite the fact that he could get you to court.”
    Maybe that’s why the duke didn’t pick me.
    “I liked you before I even knew you, Kitty,” he said, and stepped closer still. “But getting to know you has made me like you even more.”
    When he kissed me again, my arms went around his neck of their own accord. My hand reached for his hair and