“You don’t get to dictate everything, Georgie. We’re even now, remember?”
He was not supposed to be using her own logic against her. She’d been so stupid to try to use her own weakness for him to try to teach him a lesson. And now it was too late, and she needed to figure out what he was planning before a worse disaster occurred. Until then, she needed to stall.
“Get the ices, why don’t you?”
With a slow, wicked smile at her, he ordered the ices. Handing half of them to Georgiana, he picked up the rest and they returned to the path. This was better. He couldn’t touch her or kiss her with his hands full. Not without the ice melting all over his handsome hunter green jacket and his crisp white cravat.
They returned to the box without incident, and though Frederica looked at her a little closely, Georgiana didn’t think anyone knew she’d let Dare kiss her. She really needed to stop doing that, however intoxicating his embraces were—both for Amelia’s sake and for her own. Because no matter what Tristan said, he couldn’t seriously be courting her.
“Where’s Robert?” Milly asked, looking past them.
“He uttered a complete sentence and retreated to recuperate,” Tristan drawled as he passed out the treats. “He nearly said two sentences. I think Georgie inspired him.” He dropped onto the seat beside her as she carved out the center of her lemon ice. “Enjoying yourself, I hope?” he asked.
“Yes, very much,” she answered, relieved to be able to give a straight answer. “Were you teasing about Bit being inspired by me?”
His expression darkened a little. “Why?”
“Jealous?”
“That depends on what you’re asking me.”
Georgiana grimaced. “Never mind. I thought I might be able to help, but if it means you beating your chest, forget it.”
Tristan tilted his head, eyeing her. “My apologies. I forget sometimes that you’re not as cynical as you pretend.”
“Tris—”
“If you can get him to talk, please do so. But be careful. He…”
“He’s been through a great deal,” she supplied.
“Yes.” Light blue eyes watched as she took another bite of the cold, bittersweet ice. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
He grinned. “Everything means something.”
Georgiana blushed. As soon as the conversation returned to themselves, her sensibilities turned to mush. “Well, how about ‘I still don’t trust you’? What does that mean?”
“You said ‘still,’ instead of ‘will never.’ Which means you could, one day.” He brushed a finger across the corner of her mouth, then put it to his lips. “Lemon.”
Aunt Frederica appeared, taking the seat beside her. From the look in her eyes, she had seen Tristan’s gesture. Georgiana sighed.
Her feelings were so tangled. She should hate him, or at the least be angry with him for thinking his pursuit might lead somewhere. Instead, every time she looked at him her pulse raced, and everything, including her resolve, seemed hopelessly muddled. If this had been the first time he’d pursued her rather than the second, she would have ended up in his bed by now.
Georgiana frowned. She had ended up in his bed—again. Something was definitely wrong with her.
“Why the dour face?” he asked.
“I was thinking about you,” she answered, though if she’d had any sense she would have just shrugged. If there was one good thing about Dare, however, it was that she rarely needed to watch her tongue in his presence—except when it was trying to end up in his mouth.
“What were you thinking about me?”
“About how you never seem to realize when you’re not wanted.”
“I think it’s your skills at realization that should be called into question,” he said, licking the last bit of cherry ice off his thumb. “Not mine.”
“Hm. Well, you’re wrong.”
