And somehow the substance of them together held a weight more substantive than it should have.
It defied the laws of the universe.
She angled back and met his gaze. “We should probably…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
He shifted and, slowly, slid from her, even as every cell in his body demanded he stay where he was.
Then time sped its progress and they were no longer touching and she set about the business of making herself presentable—or at least, somewhere in that vicinity.
She was a right delectable mess, and their tupping hadn’t improved matters. Though now, seeing her even more mussed and delectable with her flushed skin and bright eyes, it was all he could do not to lunge forward and kiss her again.
She liked his mouth and being kissed by it.
But he stayed where he was and buttoned his falls, allowing her a moment’s privacy while she saw to her clothes.
“It’s stopped raining,” he said, rising to his feet.
His ear picked up a flurry of movement at his back, and she appeared at his side. “We can try finding our way again, I suppose.”
She held his coat out to him. He took it, only to place it on her shoulders. “You’ll catch a chill, Bea,” he said, firmly, to ward off her inevitable protest.
She gave a roll of her eyes and started walking, leaving the protection of the folly. As dusk approached, the forest lay awash in glorious golden light. Side by side, they walked without touching. His fingers itched to twine through hers. Their loss of contact had been too abrupt.
“That probably wasn’t the best idea.” He felt it needed to be acknowledged, if for no other reason than to make the next few days of close proximity bearable.
“It wasn’t an idea at all,” she said, her gaze fixed ahead. “Ideas come from the mind, andthatoriginated from an altogether different place.”
“Shouldn’t we discuss it?”
“Do you want to discuss it?”
“Not especially.”
“Me either.”
Her answer had a contrary effect inside him. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, because he feared that in doing so they would strip it of its magic.
Buthernot wanting to talk about it had a different feel…
In fact, he was now convinced they most definitelyshouldtalk about it.
“Do you see that?” She was pointing ahead.
He followed the direction of her finger. A moment later, he saw it—a thinning of the woods.
And he understood.
They weren’t going to talk about it.
Disappointment sheared through him, and the now-familiar irritation caused by this woman returned. But he didn’t have time to voice his mounting frustration as they emerged from the woods and onto the drive leading to the manor house. She set out at a swift clip, but he kept pace at her side. Was she attempting to be rid of him?
Well, she wouldn’t find it easy.
The manor house, with its three stories of wide, uniform windows, stared out at them as they approached. They were on display again, for who knew whose eyes were watching their every movement at this very moment?
Still, he didn’t insist they lock arms.
