“I was going to boil them.”
“Oh. Sorry. This way takes longer but it tastes better. You’ll see.”
Unable to keep still, she stood up, wandered to a shrub, and randomly pulled off some leaves. Horland joined her. “That is a briar. Squash the leaves and smell them.”
She did and sniffed. “Hmm, it smells like apple.” Taking more leaves, Bree crushed them into her palms and rubbed her hands on her neck. “Do I smell like apple?”
Horland bent close to her neck and sniffed deeply. “Yes,” he said, his voice deep and low in his throat.
Bree’s stomach fell at the sound of his voice so close to her ear. But when he moved even closer, his warm breath breezed across her skin. With her heart in her mouth, a shiver of anticipation coursed through her. Was he going to kiss her again? Should she move away? But her feet were stuck, and her pulse quickened as he turned his head so that their lips were so close all she had to do was sway forward a smidge and they would touch.
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
She looked at him and immediately wished she hadn’t because heat rushed into her face at the depth of emotion in his eyes.
She knew then she would have liked him to kiss her once more...so why didn’t he?
He eyed her curiously.
“Why were you crying?”
She plucked another leaf and shrugged. “Just thinking of old times.”
“Old times?”
“Yes, you know. My childhood, stuff like that.”
“Did you not have a happy childhood?”
“I can’t really complain. My parents loved me and when they left, my grandmother loved me, and when she died, my aunt and uncle loved me and raised me. No, I never went without.”
“Where did you parents go?”
“My mother died and Garlain—” She coughed hard and fast in the hope of covering her mistake.
Horland patted her back. “Are you unwell?”
“No, I must have breathed in some pollen. I might be allergic.”
She chanced a glance at his face. His jaw was set hard andhis eyes narrowed into slits. He had definitely heard her slipup. She quickly racked her brains, trying to find a word that rhymed with Garlain.
“Why would you say Garlain’s name?” His tone was low and threatening.
“I didn’t. I meant to say Gaplain, that’s what I called my father, Gaplain.” She wished she were much cleverer at that moment, but that was all she could come up with. “My mother died and Gaplain had to return home to his... ah, his work.”
He clasped his hands around her upper arms and made her face him. “You lie. You said Garlain. Why?”
Bree watched the rise and fall of his chest; his breaths were short and rapid. He wasn’t stupid but maybe he could believe other men were given that name. “You’re right. I said Garlain because that’s my father’s name. I didn’t want you to know because of how you feel about your friend, so I’ve tried not to say. It’s strange, but coincidences happen.”
He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. She looked at him and her heart flipped. His gaze pierced hers and she was caught in the near blackness of his eyes. Even darker ribbons swirled with emotion and she was sure she spotted a flame of desire. His gaze drew her forward but the moment she stepped closer, he stepped back, his beautiful warm eyes turned cold. He wasn’t going to let it go.
“I don’t believe you,” he grated. “Tell me the truth. How do you know Garlain, and do you know Patricia also? Who are your aunt and uncle?”
Oh boy, he was quick. He’d already had most of it worked out.
“Fine, my aunt is Dianne and my uncle’s name is Mark.” She twisted out of his grasp. “Happy now?”
“Patricia is also your aunt?”
