“No, Beau da Silva,” she said. “You are not the wrong one.”
There was never a moment when Maddy didn’t think that Beau da Silva was handsome. The gods had blessed him with more good looks than seemed fair. She was confident he could have any woman he wanted. But the way his eyes lit up in that moment did something to Maddy she thought impossible. It was as if her good opinion of him mattered more than anything in the world. If he kept looking at her like that, she might be in real danger.
How was it possible that a man’s smile could make her feel this way? So utterly important?
“How about I promise not to try anything dastardly, which, given the fact that I saw you store two throwing knives in your boot this morning, would be a remarkably foolhardy idea,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Now, cover your eyes. I’ll guide you the next fifteen feet or so, and I promise it will be worth your while.”
“Fine,” she said, ignoring the thrill in her chest she felt at the way he was looking at her—as if her joy was the only thing that mattered to him. She closed her eyes, and then, because that was clearly not enough, she put her hands over them as an extra measure.
“I’m going to lead you up slowly, so you don’t trip,” he said. In a moment, she felt him behind her, one hand at her back, one hand at her elbow. It was peculiar, this sensation. Unfamiliar. She should, frankly, be hating this. She should have felt vulnerable, but the heat of his hand through her clothes, and the subtle warmth of his breath from behind her had the opposite effect.
Of course, she could open her eyes at any moment. He had not bound her in any way. Except, perhaps, that she was spellbound by his playfulness. This desire, almost palpable, to delight her.
Their paced slowed, but with every step, she reached out with her other senses—the smells carried on the breeze, a subtle drop in temperature from where they may be walking in the shadow of trees, and underfoot, the sense that the ground beneath had changed from the uneven but soft ground of the meadow to something harder. Stone, perhaps. Interesting.
Everything about what she was doing seemed wrong. She was here because her job was to have her eyes wide open, looking for the danger lurking in the shadows. But Beau’s intoxicating smile and playful expression had convinced her that this was absolutely safe.
“Nearly there,” he said, whispering in her ear. It was impossible, but she felt like she could almost see his smile.
Maddy felt his hands on her shoulders, and a gentle pressing as he tried to control her steps.
“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked. She wasn’t sure whether to be impatient or excited.
“Almost,” he said. His hands were gone from her body, depriving her of his touch. But she sensed him standing close, and then, almost whispering in her ear, she heard. “Now.”
Maddy dropped her hands and opened her eyes. And blinked.
She’d had no idea what to expect. Perhaps a small clump of columbine, or some other plant in the nearby wood.
Instead, he’d found… heaven.
* * *
Beau stood beside her, his chest tight, watching her with the same urgency he’d felt when presenting a new investment opportunity to his father. But there wasn’t thousands of dollars at stake, nor the company’s reputation. Why was he so damned nervous?
“Oooooh!”
It wasn’t a string of words. But the wonder from that single syllable was worth an entire soliloquy.
Madeline Murray didn’t communicate with words. She obviously loved them, given how much she read. But right now, it was the rush of pink flooding her cheeks, and her hands, trembling as she’d covered her mouth, that told him everything he needed to know.
“How did you find this?” she asked as she recovered her voice, even as she studied the riot of tangled vines and overgrown jumbles of flowers.
Quietly, he let out the breath he’d been holding and shrugged his shoulders, as if her good opinion didn’t mean everything to him. “Purely by chance.”
She turned to him, giving him a curious look, before having her attention dragged away by some delicate pink blossom that grew on feather-green branches.
“Did you see this?”
Her voice had a giddy lightness to it that he didn’t recognize. She was gently handling the trumpet shaped blossom, looking at it with the same excitement he’d seen in his father when he’d reviewed a particularly profitable quarter.
He walked over to her.
“It’s a milk and wine lily,” she said as join her. “I’ve never seen it before, except in a book. There are half a dozen species just in this section I’ve never seen anywhere. This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She looked at him with such happiness, such gratitude. With joy.
Something tightened in Beau’s throat. When was the last time that anyone had ever gazed at him the way Madeline just did?
