She did not jolt or gasp, as he thought she might. “Mr. Lockley,” she said, bestowing upon him the briefest glance.
Ah, so she was going to be like that. His smile deepened. Someone ought to teach her that standoffish behavior was a siren call to scoundrels. Hands in his pockets, he glided to her side and nudged his elbow against hers.
“Sleep well?”
“Adequately,” she replied. But then her good heart had her adding in a softer tone, “And you?”
He loved her, loved her. “Blissfully, thank you.”
“I’m glad. However, before we continue, I must clarify something. Last night was a temporary aberration induced by the peculiar stresses of the competition, and the experience will not be replicated. I trust you agree?”
“I do,” he said easily. Then he bent to whisper close to her ear. “After all, I never kiss a woman the same way twice.”
She did gasp then, looking up at him with an outrage thatwavered when she discovered how near their faces were to each other, then melted completely as she gazed into his eyes. Devon knew he could have kissed her right then and won her surrender. But instead, he offered his arm. She laid her hand on it as if mesmerized, and he escorted her gentlemanlike into the dining room.
—
Beth went withDevon in something of a daze. Only fifteen minutes prior, she had reached the firm decision that, although she was desperately attracted to the man, there must exist some doubt as to the sincerity of his interest in her, considering she was a plain little owl and he a worldly rake. Furthermore, her own behavior had gone as far from sensible as it was possible to get without losing one’s head entirely (to say nothing of one’s virginity). So while she might reasonably continue a professional association with Devon, intelligence led her back to the same conclusion she’d made at the train station in Canterbury: she must forget romance and focus on winning**tenure**.
So how she had gone from Absolutely Setting a Boundary with Mr. Lockley Like the Independent, Educated Woman She Was! to almost immediately thereafter tingling with delight as he guided her across the corridor was a baffling mystery. Even more baffling was the fact that she found little desire within herself for solving this mystery—and, conversely, a whole lot of desire for Devon.
As they stepped into the dining room, all conversation around its long table abruptly ceased as ten heads looked up from newspapers or coffee cups to stare at them. Then, being British, looked politely away again, although with enoughthroat clearing and newspaper rustling to make it clear the politeness lidded a writhing mass of profanity. Beth and Devon did not say anything; it would have been pointless. The damage to their reputations was clearly now beyond repair (or at least, Beth’s reputation, Devon’s actually being improved) thanks to the front-page headlines of three different publications.
BIRDER SWEETHEARTS IN TRAIN TRYST
ORNITHOLOGISTS ORDER LOVE FROM MENU
PROFESSORS IN FINE FEATHER
Beth’s stomach roiled, and she was fairly sure it wasn’t just the smell of fried bacon causing it.
“Come along,” Devon whispered and, in the gentlest example yet of manhandling, guided her across to the sideboard. Taking a plate, he lifted the tongs set on a dish of grilled tomatoes, then turned to her.
“Some of these?” he asked. Beth looked at him confusedly for a moment before comprehending that he was serving her, not himself. At once, her vocabulary disappeared in a glittering burst of amazement. No one had ever served her unless employed to do so. And from the rather nervous look in Devon’s eyes, he’d never done it before either.
I love you.The memory of his whispered declaration at the verge of sleep took her glittering amazement and turned it into moonlit snow: romantic but also chilling. For while she might have stayed awake for hours last night imagining he reallymeant those words and fantasizing about where it could lead, looking at him now, with his eyes like a raven’s wing and his beautiful face, and what had been her point again? Oh yes. In morning’s light it became clear what he’dactuallysaid was “eye of newt,” inspired by the windstorm outside to quoteMacbeth. That made much more sense.
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response. She directed him to the foods she wanted, then he pulled out a chair at the table for her and ensured she was comfortably placed. By the time he brought her a cup of tea, Beth’s logic had given way to a helpless dream of their wedding day. Eventually he sat beside her with his own plate of food, and she gave him a bashful nod of thanks. He winked in reply. Turning to reach for the salt canister—
She stopped, hand in midair.
The entire company was staring at them, and judging from the range of expressions, also imagining their wedding day.
Snatching back her hand, Beth fixed an unblinking stare on her plate. How was she supposed to eat now?
“Excuse me, sir.” Devon’s voice wandered casually into the enthralled silence. “May I ask how you developed such an excellent mustache? I’ve never had luck in growing one. Perhaps you can advise me?”
Beth glanced up through her eyelashes to see the gentleman opposite her blush and stroke his whiskers. He launched into a detailed explanation of their care, and although Devon did not move, Beth could practically feel him nudging her in his friendly way. An ephemeral smile slipped across her mouth, then hid itself away again. Picking up her fork, she began to eat, and Devon guarded her peace by asking the hirsutegentleman about barbers, pomade, and the perils of crumbs, until she’d finished.
After breakfast, they left their suitcases with the landlady and set off for Professor Gladstone’s house. Summer was rousing slowly for the day, white-skied and quiet. The long, dusty road coursed through hedgerows and frothy trees, beyond which lay a view of plump hills and groves. Beth’s stomach returned to roiling now that she was alone with Devon, no other person in sight to judge her behavior. Good sense, upon being summoned, whispered pathetically that it was unwell and could not attend. She was forced to the meager resort of hugging her satchel for comfort—not a particularly effective thing to do considering the binoculars and hard-edged field journal inside.
But it was important she reset the boundary between her and Devon that she’d been so determined upon this morning, or else the villain might turn her calm waters into an absolute typhoon, and she didn’t want that, did she?
Actually I wouldn’t mind, answered her heart unhelpfully. Ignoring it, Beth glanced sidelong at Devon. “I must clarify something,” she told him.
“Again?” Devon flashed a grin. He was kicking at pebbles while he walked, an endearingly boyish behavior that had Beth veering into the middle of the road to escape the charm radiating with devastating power from him.
“Yes, I must—”
