To Sterling’s horror, heblushed. Like a schoolboy who’d just groped his first pair of tits behind the stables.
How mortifying.
“Just keep that damned animal away from me,” he said, glaring at Sir Reginald who stared back at him nonplussed, black eyes bright and suspiciously cheerful. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect the squirrel wassmirkingat him. “If it gets itself stuck in a tree again, you’ll have to find someone else to rescue it.”
“Of course,” she said solemnly.
This was where Sterling should have walked away. He’d saved the day. There was nothing keeping him here. The party–and the Duke of Clemson’s private stock of bourbon imported straight from some godforsaken place called Kentucky–was under the tents a hundred yards away.That’swhat he had come for. To drink, and socialize, and take the first step towards clearing his name. Not to do…whatever it was he’d done with Rosemary.
Kissing, and fondling, and nearly having his bollocks bitten off by a smirking squirrel.
He should have been walking–nay, running–as fast as his legs could carry him. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, reluctant to leave his wallflower behind. Never mind that she wasn’this. And he didn’t want her to be. He just…he just enjoyed this particular bench. That was all. And if Rosemaryhappenedto be standing by it, and hehappenedto kiss her again, well, that was nothing more than sheer coincidence. An act of fate, such as it were. Completely out of his control, really.
“How long are you staying in town?” she asked before she sat on one end of the bench.
Excellent craftsmanship, Sterling noted as he sat on the other end. Whowouldn’twant to take advantage of such a fine piece of outdoor furniture? It didn’t hurt that its maker had obviously intended the bench to suit a person who was by themself…which meant that there was hardly more than a hair’s width between him and Rosemary. Less, when he decided that he justhadto stretch his arm out along the back which brought them together like two puzzle pieces fitting snugly into place.
It was strange, this need he had to be close to Rosemary. Not that he ever didn’twantto be close to women. But that was generally in a purely physical capacity. Lustful appetites, and all that. With Rosemary, though…with Rosemary, it was different. Yes, he wanted to kiss her again. And admittedly do a great deal more than kiss. They’d been moving in the right direction before Sir Reginald’s untimely interruption. But now…now he was content simply sitting beside her. Which was as foreign a notion to him as deciphering ancient Sanskrit.
The truth was that as much as she irritated and bewildered him, she also soothed him. Being in her presence was a cooling balm to his hot, restless soul. A balm that he’d sincerely missed this past fortnight. Especially given what he’d learned from Kincaid.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said abruptly. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“Tell you about myself?” she asked, visibly bemused. Even Sir Reginald looked taken aback.
Sterling couldn’t blame her. Or the squirrel. Since when did the Duke of Hanover care about anyone but the Duke of Hanover? And he didn’t. Care about Rosemary, that is. But she was a distraction he badly needed. Both from past demons and future uncertainties. So if he could sit on this bench for a while and forget everything but the present, why wouldn’t he? He was an arrogant, self-entitled arse. Not a masochist. He didn’t crave pain. It just happened to follow him wherever he went.
“Yes,” he said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone. “I can hardly go about kissing every wallflower I meet without knowing something about her first. What if you ruin my reputation?”
Rosemary blinked. “What ifIruinyourreputation?”
“Indeed. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but being accused of murdering one’s mistress does put one in a position of social vulnerability. I need to be on my best behavior from this day out. Which means I cannot consort with…” He gave a vague wave of his hand. “Unsavory types.”
Tit tit tit!
Sterling glared at the squirrel still sitting atop Rosemary’s shoulder. “Quiet, you. Before I make you into a hat.”
“Please don’t threaten him,” Rosemary said with a frown.
“Hestarted it,” Sterling said grumpily.
“He is a squirrel, and infinitely smaller than you. Surely you can be the bigger person in this situation.” Digging into the small satin reticule tied around her wrist, Rosemary procured another cranberry and held it out. “Go on. If you want to know more about me, the first thing you should learn is that I admire those who treat animals with kindness and respect.”
Sterling stared dubiously at the red fruit. “He’s going to bite me again.”
“He’s not.” She gave Sir Reginald a stern glance out of the corners of her eyes. “You’re not.”
Tit tit. Tit tit tit! Tit.
“What did he say?” Sterling demanded.
The corners of Rosemary’s lips twitched. “He said he is willing to try if you are. Sometimes that is all it takes, you know. Someone willing to set aside their differences and look past all the obstacles in their path and just try.”
Why did he have the impression that she wasn’t only talking about a squirrel?
“Here,” he said grudgingly, holding out his hand with the cranberry in the middle of it.
After a brief hesitation, Sir Reginald slowly tiptoed across Rosemary’s arm and teetered, black eyes darting, on his hind legs. Reaching out with his tiny paws, he snatched up his prize and darted into the folds of her gown where he promptly disappeared.
