The additional stair meant they were nearly eye level with her but a fraction taller. Where he could see every flicker of emotion cross her expression: Want. Excitement. Humor.
And the less pleasant: Apprehension. Distance.
Distrust.
Jackson didn’t pretend not to see it. “I’m sorry your brother is not here,” he said, refusing to look away. “I broke my promise.”
Her brows lowered, but not in anger like he’d expected. “You did not promise he would be here for this, and I would not have held you to such a thing if you had.”
“You wouldn’t?”
She shrugged. “If I could not locate my brother, I had little hope of some dog on the scent runner finding him.”
How Roberts would delight in being likened to a filthy mutt.
“Me being reasonable shocks you?” she said at his continued silence.
“No, but I thought... I could see today being difficult without William by your side.”
A grin. A small one, but it was there. “My brother would have taken cruel pleasure in teasing me about everything from my dress to my hair to the way I inevitably will insult the archbishop.”
Jackson understood. “Brothers.”
He was sure Figaro had his own sick torture planned for during the ceremony.
“Y-You are not angry with me, then? My recent behavior—” Jackson gritted his teeth.Spit it out plainly, man.“I will not impose on you again. If or when you choose to engage in a physical relationship with me, I will wait until you are ready.”
Her eyes widened, but she looked away quickly. “Another promise, Duke?”
He didn’t return her teasing. “One Iwillkeep, Annabeth Greene.”
She didn’t meet his eyes. Simply nodded.
Jackson’s shoulders went tight at the loss of her gaze. He cleared his throat, taking on a flippant tone he didn’t feel. “My declaration has caused you to falter, General? I suppose I have a chance to win this war, after all.”
She snorted. “Don’t think contemplation in any way means my surrender. Willingly binding myself into legal bondagedoescause a certain hesitation to take that walk down the aisle.”
Relieved at her show of fire, he held out his arm.
Don’t rush.
“Then, how about we simply take a walk and see where we end up?” he suggested.
Her eyes brightened, but her words were tempered. “Like we used to?” Her eyes dimmed. “Everyone will be waiting.”
“And?” he challenged, finding he was in no hurry to share her with a chapel full of people. “They can hardly start without us.”
“They’ll think you mad,” she said, but her eyes were dazzling when her hand nestled into the crook of his elbow.
He covered her hand with his free one, the weight and feel of her easing the tension in his gut. “Oh, my dear.” He patted her hand. “I plan on blaming everything on you. Would you prefer I say you’d succumbed to a bit of vapors at the prospect of your intended’s striking features and manly physique, or something less dramatic, like a clothing mishap? It would be true, after all.”
“Hmm,” she said, the beautiful woman—at last—playing along. “What was the first one again? Something about striking you?”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Jackson’s laughter sentfeathers of warmth fluttering through Anna’s belly and to lower, private places, lingering long after they’d descended the stairs and made their way out into the yard.
He led her around the estate and into the woods, along a path that had become overgrown. She didn’t ask after the state of things or the direction; she was too conscious of the firmmuscles of his arm under her hand, of the brush of his thigh against hers as they walked. The awareness was unexpected and unwanted.
