Celia blinked. Was she being so obvious in her feelings regarding her conversation with Rosalinde? She must be, for Clairemont seemed to recognize them effortlessly.
She dipped her head. “Why, we discuss the gentlemen, of course,” she said, trying for a teasing tone that would hopefully distract him.
He pursed his lips as he looked at her, then turned toward Rosalinde and Gray. “It is a mild night,” he said. “Might I have your permission to take a turn around the terrace with Miss Fitzgilbert?”
Rosalinde arched a brow and exchanged a look with Gray. He stepped forward. “If it is what Celia would like,” he said.
“Miss Fitzgilbert?” Clairemont pressed, his gray gaze flitting over her face with rapid, reading focus.
She nodded. “Of course. I would very much enjoy that.”
She said those bland words, but inside her heart was beating rapidly. Her hands were shaking at her sides. Helikedher. And she liked him.
Rosalinde moved to the bell at the door and asked the servant who appeared for Celia’s wrap. There were a few moments of mindless small talk as it was fetched, but Celia hardly heard the exchange between Clairemont and her family. All she could think was that in a moment she would be alone with him again.
And she wondered what in the world she would talk to him about. He seemed to remove all thought from her head, all words from her lips. She didn’t want to look a fool.
The servant returned with a wrap and Celia draped it over her shoulders before she took the arm Clairemont offered. Touching him brought a jolt of awareness through her, just as it had earlier in the evening, and she clung to his strong arm for purchase as he smiled at Rosalinde and Gray and then led her to the terrace.
Once the door had closed behind them, he drew in a long breath of cool spring air and took her farther down the long stone terrace, away from the parlor window. At last, he released her.
“I thought you might need some air,” he said, his low, gravely tone hitting her in the chest. “You seemed tense.”
Her eyes widened. “I did? Oh, I assure you, I wasn’t.”
He arched a brow. “I have a little talent, Celia—would you like to know what it is?”
Celia caught her breath. She could name a dozen talents she would guess he had, but none of them were appropriate to list, especially when they were alone together.
“C-certainly,” she managed to stammer.
He moved a little closer. “I can read people. When I asked you what you and Rosalinde talked about, I saw your response.”
Celia ducked her head. “Oh. Well, I certainly wasn’t trying to drag you into my petty troubles. You needn’t have gone out of your way to save me.”
He took another step closer, and suddenly he slipped a rough finger beneath her chin. He lifted her face toward his and her heart pounded at how near he was.
“You couldn’t stop me from saving you,” he said softly. “Do youneedto be saved?”
She could hardly breathe at all now. He was really so very handsome and he smelled like pine and the world spun when he touched her. She’d never felt anything like this, even when she’d tried so hard to find it with Stenfax.
Thiswas something magical.
“My—my sister and I were simply disagreeing on something to do with my grandfather,” she admitted. “It wasn’t serious.”
“But if it were, if you felt threatened or unsafe, you know you could tell me.”
She blinked, confusion at his statement momentarily trumping her body’s reactions to his touch. “Unsafe? Why would I feel unsafe?”
His face went dark, and for a brief moment pain crossed over it. “There are many reasons a person might feel unsafe in their own home.”
She swallowed. “It sounds likeyoumight be the one who needs saving, Your Grace.”
His eyes went a little wider at that statement and his stare grew wild and unfocused. It only lasted a fraction of a second and then it was gone, replaced by the calm and collected gentleman he normally displayed. But the flash made her wonder once more why he had hidden away for so long. What had kept him in the country?
“Are you offering, Celia?” he asked, his voice softer, rougher. “To save me?”
Her mouth and lips suddenly felt very dry, and she licked them before she spoke. “If I knew how, I would,” she whispered.
