“Not at all,” she replied.
“Your heart is beating fast,” he rejoined.
Georgia had no answer to that.
“I think you must be a very beautiful woman,” he finished.
“T-thank you,” she breathed.
“I do not seek to flatter. I refer to the structure of your face. Strong, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and plump lips. Your skin is smooth and blemish-free. All qualities sought after in women. I cannot speak to your coloring, only imagine.”
“And what do you imagine me to be?” she asked, curious.
“Blue-eyed. Like the sky.”
“I do have blue eyes,” she hummed. “A guess?”
Keaton smiled, his fingers still lingering on Georgia's throat as though he had forgotten that he touched her still.
“You are strong-willed. Fierce even. I have always associated such temperaments with light eyes. Blue or green. Nonsense, I know.”
“But true in my case. Though I do not think of myself as fierce,” she whispered.
Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Dash it all!
She was shocked at the desire she felt, overriding all caution. But giving in to primitive desires could ruin everything, convince him she was simply an opportunistic hussy seeking to improve her prospects at his expense.
“I can assure you that you have moments of ferocity,” Keaton said with a wry smile.
“I shall endeavor to rein myself in at those moments, then,” Georgia breathed.
“By no means. It makes you quite... fascinating.”
Were they getting closer? Georgia felt as though a force was pulling them together, drawing them inexorably into each other's orbit. Keaton's hands were roving again, rising and once more exploring the contours of her face, lingering and savoring, branding with an icy touch wherever they found themselves. She bit her lip. Suddenly, he was tipping her chin with his fingers and lowering his lips to hers.
The kiss began awkwardly. Keaton missed, his lower lip landing on her chin. He became flustered, stepping back just as Georgia tilted her chin to guide her lips to his.
“I—I am sorry. I should not have done that. We should not have done that. It was not what we agreed.”
“It is quite alright...” she tried.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly, “I am sure it is to you. But not for me. I have an appointment that I must keep. Remain here and explore at your leisure. I will go back to the house.”
“I can help you—”
“I do not need help!” he barked.
He turned and strode away, cane stabbing at the path.
CHAPTER 9
Iwish she would refrain from wearing that damnable perfume. It is going to give me a megrim!
Keaton sat in his carriage next to Georgia. He was irritable because of their destination and because of the way she seemed determined to get under his skin. It was bad enough that he seemed incapable of a solid night's sleep while she was in the house, waking from feverish dreams of her. Then there was her rearranging of furniture and...
No, she did that once and has not done it again. I am clutching at straws to fit my mood. Her perfume is intoxicatingly pleasant if anything. But it is as though she wishes to ingratiate herself into my affections!
The trouble was that it would be all too easy for her to ingratiate herself, for Keaton found himself drawn to her. When her perfume was not addling his senses, he missed it. He thought of the feel of her bare skin at the oddest times, hankered after it at times until he stopped himself. He could visualize her beautifulface, and his fingers remembered the perfect softness of her skin.
