A warm, soft body collided into his with a small cry.
Throwing out his arms to steady the lass, his breath caught in his throat as eyes the color of midnight locked with his.
*
Lady Willamina Watsonhad not heard the man approach on the other side of the wall and was only made aware of his presence when her face was pressed against a massive, hard chest, attached to strong arms that had reached out to steady her.
Ice-blue eyes clashed with hers, his blond brows furrowed with concern.
“Sir, my apologies.” She stepped back, out of reach of the warm hands that had gripped her arms, causing a frisson of excitement to set her skin afire.
“Are ye hurt?” His deep voice sent shivers rippling up and down her spine.
“Nay. I fear my mind was preoccupied instead of paying attention to where I was walking.”
A fierce look blanketed his handsome face as he tilted his head to look behind her. “Is something amiss?”
Shaking her head, she tried to maneuver around the man, but he stepped in her path, stopping her escape.
“Are ye alone?”
A simple question, but yet not really.
She was, in fact, alone. In more ways than one. Was he asking out of interest? Or did he have sinister thoughts in mind? She doubted the latter. Not with the reaction he had when he thought she might be in danger.
His actions were gallant. Especially since they were strangers.
She was a horrible liar. Every time she attempted a deception her cheeks would flush, giving her away, so she spoke the truth. Soon enough it would become obvious that no one accompanied her anyway.
Straightening her shoulders, she jutted her chin out, trying to show a strong countenance, like she always attended parties on her own. She supposed that was true now that she no longerhad a husband, though her cousin did drag her to this particular event. “I am. I was just returning to the party.”
He looked over his shoulder.
And she was aware that on this side of the wall, no one could see them.
When his gaze returned to her, she was once again taken aback at how handsome the man was. Blond hair, cut to the latest style, swept back off his forehead. A jawline so precise it looked as if it were cut from the strongest steel. But his eyes were what captured her attention. The palest of blue framed by long light brown lashes. Dare she say he was one of the most fetching men she had ever seen?
Aye, she dared.
“Ye shouldna be out here alone,” he stated, his voice low.
Tilting her head to the side, she addressed him. “It doesna appear that I am alone any longer does it, Lord…” she let the sentence go unfinished. She had not the faintest idea of who this man was.
Awareness dawned on his face. “’Twould seem ’tis my turn to apologize as it appears I have forgotten my manners. Lord Primrose. Finlay Primrose.” He bent at the waist and gave her a sweeping bow before straightening. “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance…”
As Willamina had done previously, Lord Primrose let the sentence hang in the air as he waited for an answer.
“Willamina Watson.” She dipped into a curtsy.
“A lovely name for a lovely lass.”
Her cheeks heated. Was he flirting with her? She did not ken. It was a practice completely foreign to her. “Thank ye, my lord.”
His gaze remained transfixed on her, not in a leering way. She had had her fair share of those looks since the death of her husband and she found those most unwanted. Those staresmade her very uncomfortable. Lord Primrose’s stare was the opposite of leering. Was it curiosity? Interest?
Wanting, mayhap?
The longer Lord Primrose looked at her with heat in his gaze, the warmer her skin felt and the more active the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Or was she imagining it because her body had never experienced such flights of fancy? A reaction she had never had for her late husband. Never once in three short months of a one-sided marriage to her husband had she felt such a strong stirring of excitement that the stranger standing before her had elicited.
