“It is,” she agreed. “You look handsome, as always.”
He laughed at her compliment. “That red suits you well, my lady.”
She glanced down at her gown. “Thank you. I hesitated in the fabric, for red is awfully bold for a woman of my advanced age, but Sophie insisted. She says life is too short not to wear red.”
He nodded. “Your niece is wiser than her years would imply. Is she…is she in attendance tonight?”
He had hoped his question would seem nonchalant, but from the way Louisa jerked her gaze to his face, it would seem it was not.
Her lips twitched. “She is,” she said slowly. “I believe she just finished dancing with Lord Smithly and has decided to have a breath of fresh air on the terrace. If one wished to find her, that would be a good place to look.”
Rowan tensed. The terrace. Not the same one where he’d kissed her, of course, but still…
“Perhaps she would not like to be disturbed,” he suggested.
She arched a brow. “I’m sure she wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean company isn’t what sheneeds, does it?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Rowan said, though his errant mind took him back to the soft sound of pleasure Sophie had made when he touched her. Need was something he could read quite well in that circumstance.
Which was, in truth, slightly terrifying.
“It is up to you, of course,” Louisa said with a slight incline of her head. “Now I see a friend waving—I must go. Lovely to see you as always, Rowan.”
She slipped off into the crowd, leaving Rowan to his own thoughts. And to stare off across the room toward the terrace doors that would lead him to Sophie.
Now he knew where she was. And he just had to decide what to do about it.
Sophie crept down the winding path through the garden, darting her eyes around for other guests. The night was warm and the path lit by lanterns, so she didn’t doubt others might be around. She didn’t want toseeothers.
Saying yes was exhausting. She didn’t like any of the men who pursued her. At first it had been the quality of her partners that troubled her, but now more appealing men were circling her. Lord Smithly, the last man she’d danced with, was actually very charming and even handsome.
The problem was that she compared him to…to…
“Sophie?”
She froze on the path at the sound of the warm, deep voice of the very man she now compared all others to: Rowan. She didn’t have to look to know it was him. She didn’t have to see his face. She knew his voice. Worse, she knew the feel of him, the presence of him.
She didn’t want that. She didn’t want him. She didn’t want towant. And yet he kept popping up, suddenly and unexpectedly, and she couldn’t say no. That had nothing to do with her aunt’s suggestion of a Season of Yes.
“Sophie?” he repeated, now with more concern to his voice. More question. She couldn’t stand with her trembling back to him all night, much as she’d like to do so.
At last she slowly turned and looked at him. He was bathed in moonlight—it danced off his dark hair and his lean face, it brightened his eyes. It made him glow like some unattainable treasure in a silly children’s story.
“Rowan…Mr. Sinclair,” she squeaked out. “I didn’t see you earlier.”
“Nor I you,” he said, moving closer, almost with caution. Like he was afraid she’d run like a spooked rabbit in the woods. It didn’t seem like the worst response. He was certainly a wolf in this scenario.
“You were looking for me?” she asked, hearing the tremble in her voice. Hating that it was in her hands and her knees, too, especially when he took yet another step closer.
He nodded. “I was. All through the crowd and finding myself very disappointed when I didn’t see you amongst the revelers.”
“I was there,” she said, turning away slightly, for she feared he could read her face. Read her desire for another kiss. Read how afraid she was of him and everything this attraction to him represented. “Dancing, even.”
“So your aunt said,” he drawled. “Lord Smithly, eh?”
She darted her gaze toward him. His tone was light, but his mouth was drawn down in a frustrated expression. “Yes,” she admitted. “He is a fine enough man, I suppose.”
“He is that,” Rowan said, and moved even closer. “Fine enough.”
