I realized that my thumb caressed his arm softly as I spoke. It was how I comforted my brothers during thunderstorms or nightmares. I stopped, my heart suddenly jumping to my throat. What would he think of the gesture? Had I done too much? Heat climbed the base of my neck.
I dared to meet his eyes.
His expression was complex and heavy, so intense that I lost my breath for a moment. I couldn’t name all the things it contained, but I could see what it lacked. The sadness was gone.The guilt was gone. His gaze roamed over my face, leaving a trail of heat everywhere it went. Why was he looking at me like that?
My defenses began to rise, but then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me. I stiffened, too shocked to move. He buried his face in my shoulder, his cheek against my neck. His masculine scent enveloped me, and before I knew it, my arms clung to him the same way he held me.
Perhaps tighter.
I could feel the beat of his heart against my chest. It was improper, yes, but I didn’t want it to end. There was something so intimate about the moment, and what was passing between us with each second. Understanding. Gratitude. And, I couldn’t deny, a bit of affection on my part. Owen was dear to me. It was ridiculous to call him that on such a short acquaintance, but he was. Hot tears burned my eyes. I blinked hard to dispel them.
I hadn’t been held in strong arms like this since Papa died. I hadn’t known how much I needed it.
Eventually, my arms loosened and Owen pulled away just far enough to look in my eyes. I felt a cold chill as soon as the warmth of his body was gone, but the look in his eyes matched it.
“I’m glad you followed me here,” he said in a voice so quiet that it sent chills over my arms. It felt like we had a secret now. We would never speak of this moment with anyone. It was ours, and ours alone.
“I am, too,” I whispered back. If I spoke any louder, I might ruin what had just passed between us. I was sure he could hear my heartbeat in the silence.
He smiled, and I felt something melt inside me, like the wax of a candle. But things didn’t melt without heat, or a flame of some sort. I became suddenly aware of a fire burning in my chest, consuming my strongholds along with my better judgment. I wondered if it was contagious, because Owen leaned closer to me on the bench. His gaze held mine, but it was warmerthan before. It was heated and intense. I couldn’t look away. His knee slid between both of mine, threading us together as his hand moved to my face.
“Thank you, Annette.” His hoarse voice stirred through my stomach, disrupting a swarm of butterflies.
His thumb caressed my cheekbone, and then his gaze lowered to my mouth. My heart leaped, and I found myself studying that same feature of his. His lips were serious now, unsmiling. All I had to do was lean forward, and I would taste them. I would kiss him. My heart raced. The idea was wild and preposterous, but I wanted it. I wanted him.
I held still, my skin hot. The candlelight caught on Owen’s features. His eyes found mine in that pocket of light, and I felt a tug toward him. I saw the restraint in his gaze. He seemed to be waiting for me to make a decision, to lean just the slightest inch toward him. I knew, deep in my bones, that if I did, I would never be the same.Wewould never be the same.
“Who’s there?” a voice from the corridor clattered through the air, breaking us apart.
I leaped to my feet, making the quick decision to dart across the room to hide behind the harp that was covered in a sheet. I made my escape just in time, because Mrs. Kellaway’s voice came again seconds later from the doorway.
“Owen, there you are. I heard the piano.”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
I held perfectly still as Owen explained his absence, in fewer details than he had given me, and reassured her. Eventually, Mrs. Kellaway left, and I stepped out from behind the harp.
Owen was standing near the pianoforte. A smile twisted his lips as he looked at me. “That was quick thinking.”
I could hardly meet his eyes. My pulse still raced, but I gave a nervous laugh. “We would have looked improper. I couldn’t have her…forming ideas about what she saw.”
Owen crossed his arms. His gaze was still slightly hot, but I might have been mistaking it in the candlelight. “Would she have been right?” The lowness of his voice made my skin burn.
We were alone again in that dark, empty room. My feelings for Owen were growing at a dangerous rate, and they frightened me. Suddenly, I couldn’t remain still a moment longer—and I certainly couldn’t answer his question.
“I should return to my room,” I said, striding toward the door. My legs shook. “Goodnight.”
Because Owen was a gentleman, I knew he wouldn’t follow me. I didn’t stop walking until I reached my bedchamber. I sat on the edge of my bed and took a moment to steady my breathing. I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart, when a few minutes ago I had felt Owen’s, so close to my own.
I couldn’t identify what I was feeling at that moment, but it was very unique and intense. For the first time, it felt like my heart was trying to tellmesomething. It surprised me so much that I quickly blocked it out before I heard it. I couldn’t listen to my heart. It listened to me—I was in charge. My heart had always known that.
So why did I feel like that was bound to change?
CHAPTER 21
My pink gown arrived in a large white box with a gold bow. I opened it on my bed, too nervous to even touch the lace and shining pink fabric inside.
At the garden party, I would be expected to be elegant and well-mannered while conversing with all of Mrs. Kellaway’s friends, which wasn’t something I had put into practice very often. It felt like my first real debut into society, especially considering her plans to introduce me to the single gentlemen in attendance.
