Delilah obeyed, but went as rigid as the boards beneath her feet. “I doubt he knows the lines.” It was worth a try.
Mr. Morgan extended his copy of the play toward Ravensworth and pointed. “You’ll startthereafter she begins.”
Delilah sensed hesitation in Ravensworth, and for a hopeful moment, she thought he would exercise his dukely prerogative and refuse. Then he grunted his assent. He’d really taken to grunting since he’d joined the company.
Delilah understood two things at once. This was both her big chance and utterly impossible. But she understood something else, too. If she wanted to be treated like a lead actress, then she must act like one.
She cleared her throat and repeated her first line. “I will not marry.”
What strange words to be saying in the general direction of Ravensworth. She held her gaze six inches to the right of his head, determined not to look directly at him.
He held his arm at a stiff angle and read out, “You mean to say, you will not fall in love.”
“Oh no!” The next line wanted to stick in her throat. “I am in love.”
Ravensworth might not know what direction this dialogue was taking—he was particularly fond of the high arts, andLover’s Vowscertainly wasn’t that—but she did.
“Are in love!” he proclaimed. “With the Count?”
Mr. Morgan held up a hand and stepped between them. “Lilah, this man is your one true love. You need to look at him, and perhaps caress your hand lovingly across his cheek. Give your words somelife,” he added with a dramatic flourish.
Even as she wondered if a slap counted as a loving caress, Delilah nodded and looked directly at Ravensworth—which was a mistake—for she immediately forgot her next line.
“I wish…” prompted Mr. Morgan.
“I wish I was,” she said.
“Here, I have it,” interrupted Mr. Morgan, stepping between Delilah and Sebastian and taking her hand. “Takehishand inyoursand brush it across your cheek. Make Anhaltfeelyou, Amelia.”
“Pardon?” asked Delilah to buy some time. She’d never recovered her breath sufficiently, and here it was gone again.
“Like lovers do,” explained Mr. Morgan.
Like lovers do…
Delilah’s gaze fell to one inevitable destination. Ravensworth’s hands. His left hand was the safer hand, of course. Less temptation in that hand. But her eye would stray toward his right hand and those long, knowledgeable fingers. Fingers that minutes ago had…
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was supposed to have been the summer of her dreams. Instead, thanks to one breathtakingly arrogant man, it was turning into the summer of her nightmares.
But she wanted this role. How badly? She reached for his hand—oh…the right one—and placed it on her cheek. A scent hit her nose. Musky…
Her.
Then she made her second mistake. She looked up…and directly into his intense golden eyes. How had she never noticed the flecks of green?
And his scent of cedar and citrus… Here it was again.
On a few occasions, she’d imbibed more than a wise amount of wine with dinner. The feeling stealing through her now was exactly like that. And it wasRavensworthwho provoked it…
It was all entirely too much to grasp in the ten minutes since…
Oh.
What a thought to finish.
“Lilah,” said Mr. Morgan, “start atwhy so?”
Delilah stared into Ravensworth’s green-flecked golden eyes, the feel of his calloused palm sliding along her cheek toward the nape of her neck, his long fingers weaving through her hair… The banked strength of a man… She’d never experienced it before—how it made a woman feel. Her eyes wanted to drift half closed…her body to follow the subtle tug of his hand forward—
