Perhaps... perhaps she wouldn’t have to marry Mr. Pilkington after all.
Their hands entwined; their gazes locked. It was going to happen now. The moment she’d been longing for. He was going to kiss her.
She held her breath. Closed her eyes.
And nothing happened.
Disappointment tied a thick rope around her heart. She knew he wanted to kiss her. It was written plainly on his face, so why didn’t he?
Perhaps he was promised to another. Perhaps he was already married. The devastating thought struck her heart like a stone sinking into the sea.
Silly, fanciful girl. Bring your head out of the clouds.What was she doing mooning about alone in a garden with a man she barely knew? She was only a small-village girl with big dreams. Maybe he saw her as something to pity. Like the manor house, lonely and unloved.
She pulled her hand away and rose, turning away from him. “I should finish gathering the herbs. My mother will be wondering where I am.” She walked along the rows, blindly grabbing handfuls of lavender.
“Have I said or done something to offend you?” he asked, coming up behind her.
It’s not what you did. It’s what you haven’t done.
“Ow!” She’d been walking so swiftly that she stumbled over a jagged rock and stubbed her toe. He steadied her with an arm around her waist.
“Did you twist your ankle?” He looked at her, brow furrowed, eyes clouded with concern.
She hadn’t hurt herself, but the powerful gripof his arm around her waist made her want to melt against him. She lifted her foot and leaned into him. “Not badly, but it does sting.”
“Lean on me. We’ll sit down for a moment.”
His large, warm hand clasped hers, and his arm tightened around her waist as he helped her hobble to a stone bench. She sat down, and he knelt in front of her, lifting her foot and cradling it in his palms. He touched the top of her foot through the leather of her boots gently. “Does this hurt.”
“Only a little.”
He rotated her ankle. “How about this?”
“I think I’m all right.” It wasn’t pain making her breathing hitch and her heart pound. The intensity of his gaze, his palm sliding from her ankle to her calf. His fingers exploring beneath her gown. An insistent pulse beat in her neck, her wrists, her chest, and between her thighs.
She longed to be kissed, claimed, taken by him.
The sun was low in the sky, glowing with pink and persimmon. The lavender in the basket beside them scented the air.
The flutter of anticipation, the brightness of curiosity and attraction, flooded her mind. His hand glided higher, nearly to her thigh now.
Could this be the beginning of the most thrilling adventure of all?
They might kiss. Fall in love. Her life would never be ordinary again.
Chapter Five
Kisses must only be granted after marriage.
—Mrs. Oliver’s Rules for Young Ladies
What the devil was he doing?
Lips hovering close to hers. One hand up her skirts on her knee, the other resting on her trim ankle. Slide his hand up a few more inches and he’d be touching her garter. Her cheeks were rosy, and her full lips parted.
She was waiting for him to kiss her.
Dane wanted to devour her whole.