Because the truth was, he had experienced just such a moment. And she had been in it. But he had promised himself he would go slowly with her. Take his time. Properly woo and win her. Lady Julianna Somerset was too important to be rushed. Every moment mattered.
“That is hardly fair,” she said softly, tilting her head as if studying him with extra care. “I posed the question first. You cannot answer a question with another query.”
Her hair was unbound, which meant her beautiful red curls were tumbling around her shoulders and trailing down her back. He had envisioned planting his hand in those curls on more than one occasion. Plunging his fingers through the silken strands. Grasping a handful and tipping her head back so he could ravish her mouth.
He swallowed against a rising tide of desire.Damn it, he never should have offered to rub her feet. Who would have supposed that such a gesture could prove dangerously near to his undoing?
He swirled his thumbs over her insoles, rubbing the tenseness away. “How is it that you get to decide what is fair and what is not?”
“Infuriating man,” she said without heat. “That was yet another question.”
“So it was,” he observed wryly, still attempting to draw out the moment. To keep from indulging in heavier conversation. He felt too much for her, and the truth of it was, he was terrified by it. “Mayhap you should inform me of the rules, Lady Perfect.”
He watched her from beneath lowered lashes as he continued massaging her feet, gratified at the faintest hint of a pink flush in her cheeks. She was so damned beautiful. He wanted to kiss her again. To lay her down on this bench and make love to her until she was a quivering heap.
“Why do you insist upon referring to me thus? I am far from perfect, and we both know it.”
“On the contrary. You are utter perfection. From your feet to your hair. Every part of you.”
She frowned. “I have dreadful red hair.”
“It is bold and bright and beautiful, just as you are. The sun’s rays make it sparkle and shine with coppery glints.”
Oh, hell.Was he waxing poetic over a lady’s hair? How pathetic could he be? This was not him, this lovesick swain who held hands in the dark and spent hours merely talking and getting to know her better. Except, it was now. Julianna brought out a different person in him, one he had not previously realized he was capable of being. A person he liked, even.
She ran a hand through her curls now. “You truly like it?”
He frowned at her. “Who would not?”
“My mother told me it is too bright and garish, and that I ought to cover all my spots with pearl powder.”
“I bloody well adore your freckles.” Outrage speared him. “They are perfect as they are. Never hide any part of yourself, Julianna. You are glorious, and all the world deserves to know.”
His impassioned words fell between them, and he felt his own cheeks going hot, as if he were a callow youth instead of a man who had been intimate with his fair share of women. Perhaps he had gone too far. She was staring at him, not saying a word.
He cleared his throat. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“No one has ever said anything like that to me before, Sidney,” she said softly.
“Then no one has ever appreciated you the way you deserve. Your mother is included in that company.”
Anger on her behalf surged within him. How could anyone fail to see what a gem Julianna was? He had sensed it from the start, but his belief had only grown as he had spent more time in her presence. In a sea of so many ladies who were the same, she stood out with the brilliance of a blazing summer sun. He knew instinctively there would never be another woman like her who crossed his path.
And he was that much more determined to keep her near. To keep her always.
The smile on her lush lips struck him as melancholy.
“What is this? Sadness?” He tugged on her foot in teasing fashion. “I cannot allow that on my watch. What makes you look so forlorn?”
“Nothing. You will think me silly.”
“Never,” he vowed, and meant it. There was not one bloody thing about her that was silly. “Tell me, Lady Perfect.”
Her smile wavered. “You must cease calling me that. There has never been a greater misnomer in the English language.”
“Now I do think you silly.” He gave her foot another playful pull. “Cease arguing, my lady. I am a connoisseur of ladies.”
Hmm.Regrettable choice of words, that last bit. He saw the shadow cross the serenity of her countenance and knew it.
