“Very well,” he said easily.“Let us be practical.A brief turn through the park—long enough to satisfy convention—and then I shall deliver you straight into Lord Hillary’s salon.”
“I would prefer to go directly?—”
“—to the salon,” he finished, unfazed.“Yes, I know.”His smile turned knowing.“But even the most determined plans benefit from a touch of diplomacy.”
She narrowed her eyes.“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Immensely.”
She waited a beat.Then, tight-lipped, she said, “Fine.But make it brief.”
“As brief as you like,” he said, already settling back against the seat.“You are, after all, the one in a hurry.”
She shot him a glare that promised future retribution.
Nicholas grinned at her again.
And then they were off.Park chosen.Coach enclosed.Bea alert, irritated…and entirely too aware of him.
Excellent.
Not a quarter hour later,Nicholas’s coach had made it through the London traffic and rolled through the gates of Hyde Park.
As the wheels crunched over gravel, Nicholas watched Bea in the shifting morning light—her posture rigid, her gloves twisting in her lap.She appeared to be full of arguments she refused to voice.
She was fighting herself.He could practically see it.
Good.Let her fight.Let her resist.The trick, after all, was simple.If Bea was to kiss him again, it must be her idea.
He didn’t need to press.He didn’t need to chase.He simply needed to make her want him.
So Nicholas turned his head, looked out toward the bright sweep of the Row, and said nothing at all.
He could feel her looking at him.
Perfect.
Nicholas glanced at her.Then he turned to look out the window again, a man settling comfortably into mischief.“Don’t worry.I have no intention of kissing you again.”
“I don’t believe you.”Her voice was sharp.
“You needn’t fault yourself, you know.I think it was all too much for you…too soon.”
Her eyes narrowed.“What do you mean?”
He leaned back on an elbow and shrugged one shoulder in the most nonchalant way he could muster.“I realized something.I was perhaps…too quick to praise our kiss.”
Beatrix blinked, utterly nonplussed.“What?”
“Well.”He adopted a thoughtful tone.“It wasn’t entirely your fault, of course.First attempts are rarely exemplary.”
Her jaw dropped.“First attempts?”
“Kissing is a skill like any other,” he continued helpfully.“One must practice to truly excel.So, you oughtn’t feel discouraged if your first time was…well.Adequate.”
“Adequate?”she echoed, voice strangling itself.
“Yes.Perfectly serviceable.Pleasant enough.But—” He gave a sympathetic shrug.“One can hardly expect brilliance out of the gate.”
