Page 107 of Courting the Country Miss

“You don’t make calls that early.”

She let out a huff. “You don’t get up that early.”

“Yes, in fact, I do, and have been for most of the Season.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Why?”

“Because, as I keep trying to tell you, I don’t stay out all night anymore—unless I’m dancing with you, that is.” No longer willing to resist, he drew her closer—not so much as to scandalize chaperones, but enough to make his point. In a low voice, and allowing his breath to stir the little curls by her ear, he murmured, “Come riding with me tomorrow, Tish.”

She shivered and her hand trembled. “I-I shouldn’t. I mean, I don’t know if a groom will be available to attend me.”

“No groom necessary. I will see that you come to no harm.”

“Alone?” her brow furrowed.

“No less proper than riding unchaperoned in an open carriage.”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean, I realize that but—” She broke off and her mouth tightened.

He put a slight distance between them. Perhaps that would ease her distress. Very gently, he asked, “When did you become reluctant to spend time in my company?”

She remained silent so long that he feared she would never answer. After a hard swallow, she whispered, “You know why.”

He whispered back, “Because I kissed you?”

Her cheeks pinked, and she held her lower lip between her teeth.

Tristan put a husky, teasing quality into his voice. “Was it so bad?”

She let out a shaky breath and turned her head away.

His stomach clenched. “Don’t fear me, Tish. I would never ruin you.”

“I know.” Her eyes brightened with gathering tears.

The sight of her tears sent a bolt of alarm through him. “Trust me. Please trust me.”

She refused to look at him. He needed to fix this. Now.

The waltz ended. He led her off the dance floor, but instead of returning her to her aunt, he took her outside to the far edge of the terrace, still within view of the open doors but out of earshot. With lights from the ballroom falling upon them, he stood near enough that they could converse. Though craving the contact, he refrained from touching her.

“Then please believe me when I say that I have changed. I know you have other prospects, but I ask you to allow me to court you. Don’t agree to an offer from anyone else—I beg you—until I have had a chance to prove to you that I am what I claim.”

She turned and leaned on the stone balustrade, gazing out over the moonlit gardens.

Unable to resist touching her, he also leaned on the balustrade and rested his crossed arms next to her, letting his fingers brush her elbow. “Let me prove to you my intentions. Let me show you my heart.”

She closed her eyes as if his words inflected pain. At last, she nodded.

“Come riding with me tomorrow?”

Another nod. “I’ll be ready.”

A steady stream of couples passed by on their way from the garden into the French doors leading to the house.

“Leticia dear,” Mrs. Tallier called from the doorway. “I believe Isabella is rather fatigued.”

“Coming, Aunt.” Leticia glanced at Tristan.