“It’s my job, my lord.”
Fingers itching, Carter made a scoffing sound. “You’re little prepared for it.” He pushed his chair back and crossed to stand beside her.
For the better of the play. This was business.
And today, business required the two of them to run through this scene. They would act out the prelude to the characters’ first kiss.
“It’s like playing with toy blocks. If I put this here, and then this…” Miss Sparrow sat back, resting on her knees and her feet. The heroine’s proud look falls when the small structure collapses, some wood landing on the carpet.
“I refuse to allow you to burn down my ancestral home.” Carter eased himself onto the floor beside her. “Move over.”
“I can do this.” Lady Drusilla leans forward again, her side touching the length of his.
“You’re top-heavy.” Carter pauses.
“Pardon, my lord?” Lady Drusilla pretends to be shocked here. Miss Sparrow splayed one hand against her bosom—perfectly ample and not top-heavy at all.
“The fire. The structure for your fire is top-heavy.” The Earl is unnerved at his words but rebuilds the fire. “Like everything else in this world, without a strong foundation, it will eventually collapse.”
“Even the strongest of foundations crumble,” Lady Drusilla says.
“Such as?”
“Friendship—”
Carter held up a hand, inadvertently touching her shoulder. This was the moment. Pause. Pause. “Feel the tension building?”
She nodded.
“Again,” he directed.
“Even the strongest of foundations eventually crumble.” Miss Sparrow spoke the heroine’s lines a second time.
“Such as?” he asked again.
Sparks bounced around the room, so strong he could feel them, hell, he could practically hear them.
“Friendship,” she finally answered. “Family. The future.”
For a half a second, Carter thought she was answering for herself rather than Lady Drusilla.
“That’s not always a bad thing,” he answered.
“Unless they are all you have.” Miss Sparrow gazed deep into Carter’s eyes.
“But there can be more…” Carter pushed.
The lady kneeling on the floor leaned closer, issuing a bold invitation. It was one of the changes they’d discussed.
And Carter, better than anyone, comprehended the extent that acting could feel more genuine than unscripted conversations.
“You’re supposed to kiss me now.” Miss Sparrow’s voice came out little more than a whisper.
She closed her eyes. Was she still acting?
“Please?” Her voice hitched and she tilted her head back. Dear God, he may very well have turned over a new leaf, but he wasn’t a monk.
Carter closed the distance but stopped himself from claiming her mouth.
