He said it with such earnestness that I could not help but look at him. There was no hint of amusement in his expression, or mischief. The intensity in his dark eyes stripped me of my protective walls, leaving me vulnerable. Bare, my attraction grew unhindered. And uncomfortable. I could not stand it, so I settled back into the familiar. Into safety.
“I was unaware we were ever friends,” I said, my tone carrying a playfulness to soften the snub.
He chuckled, his expression relaxing. “I should like to be, especially if we are to once again become partners.”
“Partners?”
“Indeed, in a scheme against your brother.”
Ah. Yes, that was the reason we were presently outside the castle well after midnight.
The lieutenant extended his hand. “What do you say? Might we be friends?”
I stared at his proffered arm, my heart careening into an overzealous pace again at the mere thought of touching him. No matter how many times I chided my body for reacting, it continued to do so. I had never denied that I found Lieutenant Paget handsome—many certainly did—but this felt like more.
More in a way I did not understand.
I took his hand, and we shook as if this were a business agreement. The jolt that raced up my arm, however, felt anything but, and when neither of us let go, time seemed to slow. The chirp of crickets still echoed around us, but I became so transfixed by the intensity of his gaze that minutes could have passed without my awareness. The lieutenant was equally immobilized. Was he arrested by the same disquieting feelings as I?
His thumb caressed the top of my hand, and my breath hitched as my blood turned to ice. I jerked my hand away, uncertain what to do with the sensations and my desire to experience them again. I forced a smile and took a step back, putting distance between us.
“Well,” I said, resisting the urge to rub my hand along my dress to rid myself of the tingling sensation that lingered there. “Shall we complete our mission now?”
He nodded, seeming to pull himself from his own stupor. “Yes.”
I walked past him and through the arch of The Towers, acutely aware of him trailing behind me. We continued in silence until the path wound out of the rose gardens and toward the pond. To the right of the path, nestled in the woody area opposite the water, was a patch of odd-looking plants. Each stalk featured dark green leaves at its base and a head with a similar leaf-like shape, though it was a paler green in color. Inside, a reddish protrusion extended outward.
I retrieved a small knife from the basket the lieutenant still held and kneeled next to one of the blooms. Carefully, I began cutting the stalk.
“What are these?” the lieutenant asked as he joined me on the ground, setting the basket next to him. “And what are we doing with them?”
“Cuckoo-pint. For an answer to your second question, lean forward and take a sniff.”
His eyes narrowed, but he did as I directed. When he jerked back with a grimace, I had to press my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
“Not the most appealing, are they?” he said.
“To us, no, but they do attract bees rather well. I suspect the gardener has planted them here to help with the fruit trees in the spring.”
“Ah. That is a logical conclusion. And given that they smell of rot, I take it you intend to wield them as a weapon of sorts?”
I grinned. “Russell is always prattling on about flowers. I thought this was an opportunity to prove I have been the best sort of sister and listened to him.”
The lieutenant’s lips twitched. “And how shall you present them?”
“Present? Oh, no. I intend to hide them in his room very,verywell.”
His laughter broke free, and I could not help but join him. Once we had both regained composure, he held out his hand for the knife. “May I? My purpose in coming is to prove my loyalty, after all.”
I handed the knife to him. “Be careful not to get anywhere near the inside just there. The smell comes from the ring within.”
He hummed pensively, though went to work sawing the stalk. “I would think you would find it amusing if I were to become an unintended victim of your scheme. Much like the tart. Or a purposeful victim like the catnip.”
“I am attempting to subdue the impulse to shove you into the entire patch.”
My words provoked another laugh, and he nudged me with his shoulder. “You are merciless, Miss Apsley.”
I raised a questioning brow. “Miss Apsley now, is it? Not Annette?”
