Her eyes opened wide the second she comprehended his words. He loved that about her. The fact that she never hid her feelings behind ennui or false sophistication. She’d never been anything but honest with him.
“Oh.” And then she dropped her lashes.
He watched her swallow. Not many times had he left her bereft of words.
“Always know, Olivia, that you are incomparable.”
She lifted her gaze as though in surprise. a lovely pink flooding her cheeks, but she was shaking her head.
“I–You. Miss Shipley. Please give me my hat.” She stepped forward to take it from him. But he did not release it. Instead, he lifted her chin so that he could lose himself in his favorite eyes in the world.
Two pools of violet glistened up at him. One steady, the other drifting on its own.
Ah… Olivia. And then he touched her hair. Styled today, into intricate braids and an off-centered knot to accommodate her hat, he supposed. This is as she should be; a lady, in every sense of the word.
God, how he’d wronged her.
“Allow me. Do you have the pins?”
Her chest rose and fell, as though she couldn’t quite catch her breath, but then she reached into a pocket and pulled out three hat pins.
“Let me see.” He placed the hat atop her head and adjusted it to the side. Taking one of the pins, he slid it through the fabric and into a braid. Savoring this nearness, her scent, he carefully added the other pins.
The hat was adorned with feathers, but one flirtatious plume caressed the side of her face most temptingly. He could not stop himself from sliding his hand along the silk of the feather and then to the even softer texture of her skin.
When he reached his thumb over to caress the plump flesh of her lip, her lashes drifted shut and her body swayed.
She trembled beneath him.
“We are still friends?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Always.” But his heart raced.
She tilted her face into his hand and then, with a jolt, stepped backward. She lifted her chin and with cool eyes informed him, “We need to return to the others.”
Yes. By God. “Of course.” He’d have winged her an elbow but wasn’t sure he could touch her again without taking more. And for the first time since knowing her, he wasn’t certain she’d be willing to give.
And she would be right.
“The steps are uneven. Allow me to go before you, in case you need assistance.” Although she’d never really needed his assistance any time before. He’d only thought she did and then wreaked havoc in the long run.
“Thank you, My Lord.”
As they approached the covering to the stairwell, Lord Lockley appeared, one lip pulled back, stretching his mouth into a grin. A grin Gabriel would have liked to wipe off the blighter’s face with a single blow to the chin.
“Lady Priscilla was concerned,” he said in that annoyingly languid voice of his. “For Miss Redfield… but it’s obvious she’s managed to place herself in quite capable hands.”
If Gabriel was not mistaken, a tremor shook Olivia’s small frame.
“You’re not wrong in that, Lockley. You may inform my sister that Miss Redfield had forgotten her hat.”
Lockley sneered again, bowed, and then with an entirely inappropriate glance at Olivia, turned and disappeared as quickly as he came.
No way in hell was the bastard marrying his sister. Gabriel never ought to have allowed his mother to invite him to begin with.
* * *
Olivia wasgrateful to follow Gabriel down the steep and winding stairs. Her knees were wobbly, and she wasn’t sure she could have descended the steps safely knowing he was watching.
