Page 100 of Courting the Country Miss

His eyes took on a faraway look, his expression unbearably sad. “I was such a disappointment…the reason my mother left.”

“No, of course not.” Did he really believe his mother ran off because of him?

His lips tightened. “I would never treat my children that way. There are more effective ways of punishing a misbehaving child and ensuring discipline than inflicting welts and bruises.”

“Of course there is.” She smoothed back that curl that always tumbled over his brow and let her fingers slide along his smooth-shaven cheek.

His eyes became intensely focused on her. With deliberate slowness, he slid one hand up her arm, over her shoulder, up her neck to her face. His thumb grazed her cheek in a feather touch. The air around them thickened, and all her nerve endings tingled as if a thunderstorm raged nearby. His gaze focused on her mouth. Her lips heated in response. He lowered his head, paused, met her eyes. A question lay there, open and honest.

She didn’t know the answer. Her heart throbbed and a slow, burning tightness coiled in her stomach. He moved his other hand, slow and sensuous, up her shoulder to her other cheek. He stood, warm hands on her face, his eyes hot. He lowered his head again but paused a breath away.

Is this what she wanted?

He brushed his lips over hers, warm and unbearably soft. Someone let out a sigh. Or a moan. The pressure of his mouth increased to a gentle tug, asking, testing. It returned with renewed heat, no longer asking but offering. Unimaginable pleasure crept over her. The slow burn intensified.

Footsteps outside the room neared. “Stay in line, children.” Mrs. Harper’s voice rang out.

Leticia leaped away from Tristan. The warmth of his touch, his kiss, remained. While Tristan moved to stare out of the window, Leticia sank into one of the armchairs facing the stove. She pressed a finger over her lips. They throbbed. Burned. Delicious warmth inside her made her want to stretch like a cat. No wonder mothers and chaperones kept such wary eyes on young girls. Everything proper inside her crumbled under the power of Tristan’s skillful kiss. The reckless behavior of so many women now made perfect sense.

She was a fool to venture there, especially with a libertine of Tristan’s caliber. She would do well to remember that he was not the sweet, sensitive child she’d comforted, confided in, played with, loved as a brother but most of all as a friend. Over the last several years, he’d become a rake in every sense of the word. He claimed to have changed, and indeed appeared to have done so, but this newly reformed side of him may not be here to stay.

If she gave her heart to him, only to have him eventually resume his life as a rake, she may never survive the heartbreak.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Staring out the window of the front room in the school while every muscle in his body screamed at him to carry Leticia off to a dark corner, Tristan took several steadying breaths and ran through the latest figures the land steward had sent to him until his heartbeat returned to normal. Later, he would pull out the memory of kissing her, and revel in it, but for now, he needed to appear perfectly circumspect. He almost snorted at the idea of linking the word perfect with any part of himself. Too far away to touch, Leticia sat shuffling sheets of music with shaking hands.

Footsteps reached them. “Ah, here you both are.” Mrs. Harper’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Tristan turned and gave her a bland smile. Leticia looked up and held up sheet music as if indicating she’d found something she sought. All appeared innocent—if no one noticed Leticia’s flushed cheeks.

“Form two lines please,” Mrs. Harper instructed the children. “Mr. Barrett and Miss Wentworth will help us. Right here, Mr. Barrett, if you please.”

The footman, Peter, entered, and the four adults helped teach the reel to the children. Throughout it all, Leticia refused to look Tristan in the eye. At first, he assumed the kiss flustered her, perhaps even embarrassed her. As the dancing lesson progressed, however, it became apparent something truly distressed her.

He must address her concerns before they festered. For now, he focused on the dancing. He guided girls ranging from barely tall enough to reach his elbow to adolescent. Engrossed in his assignment, he guided and complimented until they managed a reel. At the end, as they all bowed and curtsied, Tristan glanced at Leticia. She met his gaze and smiled.

Perhaps whatever concerned her could be assuaged more easily than he first feared.

Mrs. Harper dismissed the students, reminding the older ones of the public dance.

Leticia moved toward the room’s doorway but Tristan called her. “Miss Wentworth, a word if you please?”

Mrs. Harper called as she headed to the schoolroom, “We will wait for you outside.”

“I’ll hail a hackney.” Peter unlocked the front door and held it open for the children and the teacher, then followed them all out.

Alone with Leticia, Tristan moved to her side and peered into her downcast face. Very softly, he said, “Tish.”

She stiffened, staring at the floor. He put a finger under her chin, lifted, and waited until she looked him in the eye.

A teary gaze met his. “Please don’t make me fall in love with you.”

He blinked. Fall in love with him?

“I won’t do it,” she said with a fierceness at odds with her usual demeanor. “I won’t risk you breaking my heart. You say you’ve changed, and I think you believe it, but I don’t know if…” She pinned him with a stare. “Have you changed in your heart, or are you temporarily adjusting your behavior out of some idea of paying penance—or worse—as a way of adapting your seduction repertoire for me the way you adapted it for Elizabeth?”

All the wind left his lungs. If she’d driven a blade through his heart, it could not have caused worse agony. His throat and eyes burned. The pain heated to indignation, to anger. “This has nothing to do with Elizabeth. When will you stop flinging that in my face? I have changed. Why can’t you see that?”