He wanted her happy. Relaxed. Carefree. Words that seemed to have no place in his life at this moment and yet somehow had begun to define his every thought.
Of course, he hadn’t helped by asking her about that damned kiss. He shouldn’t have asked. The question had slipped out before he could stop it, bitter as iron on his tongue. The thought of another man’s mouth anywhere near hers... Hell and damnation all at once. The mere thought made his blood turn. Irrational, yes. Possessive, assuredly. Entirely unreasonable, of course.
Bishop studied her.
She was looking out the window, distant again, and he wanted to draw her back. But he resisted, granting her the space she seemed to require. Pulling back the corner of his curtain, he noticed they’d entered the park. All along the path, the parade of vanity unfolded in full swing. Carriages rolled at a crawl so that every smile, every new feather might be properly admired or envied. Ladies displayedthemselves at their best while gentlemen preened beside them. He’d forgotten how absurdlycivilizedscandal could look in daylight.
“Well, this is rather refreshing,” Alyssia observed.
“The drive?”
She glanced at him. “The reminder.”
“Then we are of the same thought.”
“Really? It must look different for you since you never got to be part of these things fully.”
Bishop shrugged. “From the looks of it, I didn’t miss all that much.”
She chuckled. “You did not.”
But he had missed out. He’d missed out on her. And he could not turn back the clock. However, he would spend the rest of his life making up for it. She deserved better than to be fodder for anyone’s amusement.
Her leg jerked against his, and his eyes narrowed, following her gaze fixed on the window. He parted the curtain again and heat flared in his chest, sharp and swift.
Rafferty.
Keep your cool, Bishop.
For Alyssia’s sake, if nothing else.
His gaze caught on another familiar figure perched atop a horse alongside a few others. Was that his damn uncle? What the devil was this? The blackguard had the audacity to strut about after yesterday? Not frightened enough to go into hiding but parade in Hyde Park?
Bishop’s fingers itched.
Alyssia must have caught a glimpse of him as well for she stiffened even further, the curtain slipping from her fingers, shutting them out from the outside world. “Ignore him.”
He blinked at her, then said softly. “I should be the one saying that.”
About Raffertyandhis uncle.
She contemplated him for a moment, then she suddenly laughed. “The world truly is the strangest place, is it not?”
“I have to agree,” Bishop muttered, accepting her evasion of his comment. Still, his pulse thundered like exploding barrels of gunpowder. He kept his gaze locked on Alyssia, forcing his hands to remain still, when what he truly wanted was to stop the carriage, drag Rafferty and his uncle from their horses, and finish what should have been done long ago.
His calm existed by her grace alone.
Bishop cursed under his breath and shifted, sliding his legs alongside hers until they pinned hers together. Those villains outside didn’t matter. They’d get what was coming to them in due course. Today, this moment, they were irrelevant. What mattered was Alyssia and him. The fact that they’d found each other was a miracle in itself, and he’d be damned if the likes of those blackguards ruined this outing.
“What are you doing?” she asked, half amused, half reproving.
“Distracting you.” He grinned. “Is it working?” It certainly worked for him.
She gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Of course, it’s entirely inappropriate, so it’s working.”
Bishop laughed at that. “So only inappropriate things are distracting? What of appropriate things?”
“Is that even possible with you?”
