The whole purpose of their fake courtship was to help her attract the baron and keep his attention for long enough to secure a betrothal, and here Nicholas was, blithely getting in the way of the best opportunity she’d had to make progress with him.
She raised her chin and smiled at the baron. “I would be delighted to walk with you. If the pond is as lovely as you say, then I’m certain I won't mind seeing it more than once.”
He beamed. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ll be ready to depart on the hour,” she said, ignoring Nicholas’s glare. “Thank you for the invitation, my lord.”
Baron Sylvestor bowed and walked away.
Sophie glanced around to make sure that no one was paying them any mind, then turned slowly to Nicholas and narrowed her eyes. “May I have a word with you?”
He got stiffly to his feet. The laughter that usually danced in his eyes was nowhere to be seen, and the set of his mouth was grim as they marched out of the drawing room. There was no one in the corridor, and Sophie drew Nicholas farther from the doorway to reduce the chance of anybody overhearing them.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her hands on her hips. “You’re acting like you’re trying to get in the way of our courtship. If you and I were genuinely courting, I’d understand, but we’re not. This isn’t real.” Her heart was heavy, her tongue thick as she added, “None of this is real.”
No matter how badly she might want it to be.
The corner of Nicholas’s eye twitched and his jaw set. “Are you sure?”
“I…” She trailed off. “I beg your pardon?”
“Doesn’t this feel real?” He grabbed her shoulders and, before she had time to react, pressed his lips to hers. They were soft—more so than she’d expected—but there was no uncertainty in the kiss.
His scent—sweet orange and lavender—filled her nostrils, and it was all she could do to clutch him and hold on. Her knees wobbled, and he gripped her hips and steadied her.
A sound nearby jolted her into the present, and she shoved him away, scooting backward so that they were no longer touching.
She looked wildly around, but no one was in sight. Relieved, she ran her trembling hands over her dress, smoothing everything into place. Her heart battered the inside of her rib cage, and she drew in a sharp breath as she forced her gaze to meet his.
“What on earth was that?” She hated how breathy her voice was. She sounded like a silly, kiss-addled girl.
Which, she supposed, she was.
Whatever point Nicholas had been trying to prove, the kiss certainly had felt real.
Hadbeenreal.
“I’m sorry.” He reached for her, but she sidestepped him. “I shouldn’t have done that without permission.”
“You shouldn’t have done thatat all.” She winced. Her claim didn’t sound terribly convincing. Perhaps that wasbecause she wanted him to wrap her in his arms and kiss her again.
But it couldn’t happen. Not if he refused to marry. Unless… he’d changed his mind?
He nodded, his expression closing over. “You’re right, of course.” He dragged his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I shouldn’t be interfering in your courtship, but I never expected to get so jealous.”
Jealous?
Sophie’s breath bottled in her chest. Did that mean he cared for her? That he wanted her for himself?
“I can’t stand seeing you with another man,” he went on, and she could have sworn she was floating inches above the ground, her body vibrating in a delicious way she’d never experienced before.
She wanted to revel in it, but before she could do that, she needed answers.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she inhaled slowly, steeling herself for whatever might come. “Does this mean you intend to court me sincerely?”
Please let him say yes.
He sighed heavily. “I can’t.”
