“I can’t leave the party.” He stared at her. “It’smy party.”
“Pah. I sneak out of parties like this all of the time. There are too many planned activities for anyone to notice. One summer, on a tour of Lord—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Are you saying youwouldplay at skis with me... if it weren’t your party?”
“No skis,” he said firmly. “No risking my life until there’s an heir, and even then it’s an irresponsible idea.”
“Irresponsible but fun,” she said. “You keep missing the point.”
“Not everything is fun. What if I broke my leg?”
“I broke mine twice.” Her eyes took on a far-off sparkle. “Eventually, I flew over that crevice.”
“You jumped across a wide crevice?” he said in horror. “On skis?”
She nodded. “Fellinto, twice. Soaredacross, once. Indubitably worth it. I won an astronomical wager.”
“You’re a madwoman,” he informed her.
Part of him wished he’d been there to see her win the bet.
“One moment...” She and Max slipped into her guest chamber.
She closed the door behind them.
He tensed.
From the corridor, all Alexander could hear was what sounded like his very expensive furniture scraping across his equally expensive floors, followed by excited yips from the puppy, and a peal of laughter from Miss Finch.
She was out of breath and disheveled when she slipped back out of the door and closed it tight behind her.
“There,” she said, the word husky and breathless. “What now?”
Now, Alexander was going to shove his hands behind his back and perform any magic necessary to keep himself from kissing her.
She grinned at him. “Cat got your tongue?”
There were many, many things Alexander would like to do with his tongue, none of which were appropriate thoughts toward Miss Finch.
He turned from her, heroically, all of the game-points in the world raining down around him in celebration of his stoic ducal restraint.
“I’m teasing,” she said, and nudged at his arm the way she liked to do when she was poking verbally at him.
It might have resulted in nothing more than that, except Alexander had chosen that exact moment to start walking away from her. His stride bent his arm at such an angle that instead of nudging him with her knuckles, her fingers tangled with his.
They were now holding hands.
In the middle of his guest corridor.
“Er,” Alexander said.
He should have let go of her hand by now.
He was going to.
Any second.
Miss Finch looked just as discombobulated. She had frozen still, which was the opposite of her natural state of human hurricane. Color rose up her cheeks.
They were very nice cheeks. They led the eye to her plump, kissable lips.
