“You cannot expect me to believe that, Your Grace,” she scoffed.
“It works, Lady Elizabeth. Give it a go. Look at me like ye cannae resist me. Go on, then.”
She laughed aloud, but beneath the mirth, a flutter of something unspoken stirred, a pull she was reluctant to admit. The heat of his gaze lingered in her thoughts, tempting and dangerous all at once. Yet she chastised herself: she had to keep her wits about her.
“Ah, that’s not the way to treat yer teacher, lass,” he said, shaking his head in mock-disappointment.
Elizabeth hesitated, then tried to steady her gaze. Her eyes grew wide, uncertain.
Was this really how she was meant to look?
She held his gaze awkwardly, feeling the sudden weight of all eyes in her head, and wondered if she was doing it right at all. Make him feel like the only man in the world… but instead, she felt more like she was fumbling through a dance she didn’t know the steps to.
He blinked at her.
What was that? Was he surprised? Disappointed?
“Ye look terrified, lass,” he murmured. “Think about longing. Yearnin’. Have ye ever yearned for someone, longed to be with him?”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched at his words, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring deep inside her. Yearning. Longing. She shoved the feeling down, tightening her jaw.
No. Not here. Not now.
“I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace,” she said after clearing her throat, “Desire isn’t… well, it isn’t something a lady speaks of.”
He gave her a knowing look, one that didn’t waver. “Ah, but even proper ladies like yerself hold secret fires. You think they’re just for the reckless or the wild.”
She bit her lip, feeling a strange warmth move through her, a flutter she hadn’t quite felt before. Not until she met him. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, her thoughts tangled with images of him, his voice, his presence, the way his eyes held hers…
But then shame flooded back, sharp and cold, demanding silence.
This isn’t proper. This isn’t right.
She straightened her spine, voice firmer though her cheeks burned. “I assure you, Your Grace, I am quite… in control of my senses.”
He chuckled softly, unconvinced but entertained. “We’ll see how long that lasts, lass. Now, go ahead and try again.”
She tried again.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Ye look like you’re squintin’ into the midday sun, Lady Elizabeth.”
“Perhaps I am, Your Grace. Andyou’re the sun. Full of ego and blinding light.”
He grinned, unfazed. “No, ye’re hard on me ego, lass. Now I’m startin’ to think I’m a poor teacher.”
“Maybe you are,” she retorted.
He raised an eyebrow. “Try somethin’ else. Flutter yer lashes. Look up slowly. Think of somethin’ ye yearn for. Maybe not a man, but a fine dish. Yer favorite food. Freedom.”
Even as she rolled her eyes, a sudden warmth flickered beneath her skin at his words.
Desire…she had always thought it a foreign notion, yet deep down, she knew it had been simmering quietly all her life, like an ember waiting to ignite.
She lowered her lashes, letting them brush her cheeks in a slow, deliberate flutter. Drawing a deep breath, she summoned the visions of all she longed for.
Freedom. Respect. The chance to truly be seen.
And then, inexplicably, his face flickered through her thoughts, sharp and vivid, sending an unexpected shiver coursing through her.