Lawks, but he was handsome with his dark blond hair and hazy blue eyes, not to mention tall and broad-shouldered. Every female eye in the room cut discreet glances his direction—some not so discreet. But he wasn’t waiting for any of those women. He was waiting forher.
And she’d be a liar if she said it didn’t give her a thrill.
He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them. He smelled nice, too.Sandalwood. She reckoned a valet would smell good, proper grooming being part of his job and all. “Did you enjoy a pleasant evening?” he asked.
“Aye, I did,” she replied, the words a calm lie. Actually, she’d been as buzzy as a bee in spring. All she’d been able to think about was this very moment—seeing him again.
“And your morning?”
“Productive.” Actually, she’d dared not attempt to poke needle into fabric. She’d been so jittery with nerves she was afraid of ruining the fine dupioni silk gown with dropped stitches.
“Do you enjoy your work?” he asked.
Nell got the feeling he wasn’t merely being polite, but that he was genuinely interested in her answers. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Mostly,” she said, honest.
“What don’t you like?”
“My eyes.” Again with the honesty.
His eyebrows drew together. “Your eyes?”
“They’re developing a squint.” Realizing he wouldn’t know what she meant, she added. “At the fine needlework.”
Still, he asked, “What does that mean?”
“Dressmakers only have so many years in their eyes. Mine are going early.” At his look of concern, she said, “But I can keep running the shop and taking on more apprentices.”
He nodded slowly before glancing down, seeming to find something fascinating on the floor. He met her gaze again. “How are your boots? Are they sturdy?”
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that question. But before she could properly investigate his reason for asking, he crooked his arm and held it out to her.
She hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to do—she was to weave her arm through his. But the thing was, a man had never offered her his arm. Not even when she’d been sixteen and had a suitor.
Suitor?She wasn’t sure he could be called that. There was another word for a man like that, and with this man’s arm held out to her, she didn’t want to think aboutthatman.
The blood inciting a sudden riot in her veins, she threaded her arm through his, at last. Through layers of muslin and wool, the heat of his body met hers, inviting her to snug closer as they made their way outside. Though it was another clear day, cool snapped through the air. An urge insisted she make use of his body warmth. That same urge didn’t think this man would mind much, or at all.
But she would mind.
Very much.
So, she didn’t.
“May I ask where you’re leading me?” It was only responsible to ask.
“How sturdy did you say your walking boots are?”
Nell blinked. “I didn’t.”
Mr. Kendall smiled. She liked his smile, but she wasn’t sure she likedthissmile. This smile was telling her that he had some mischief in store for her.
Once they’d walked clear of the hotel, he stopped their progress, turned, and pointed. “You see that hill over there?”
“Yes…” The hill—it might be a mountain—was hard to miss.
“It’s called Masson Hill, and we’re going to climb it.”
Nell’s right foot caught on her left, but she recovered from the stumble when his arm pulled tight, righting her in an instant. How strong he was. A memory of his bare chest and arms flashed across her mind, making her body heat up by an uncomfortable degree.
