Page 41 of Courting the Country Miss

“I refer to your habit of keeping late hours and sleeping away the daylight.”

They passed underneath a bower, which blocked them from the prolific lanterns and cast a shadow over them. Couples strolled past without taking note of them.

He stopped and turned to her, and the intensity in his eyes glimmered in the shadowy light. “I apologize for being remiss in my compliments to you. I shall make an effort to rectify that omission.” He cupped her cheek with a gentle hand.

Too startled to move, she went still, all her focus captured by Tristan. His touch induced strange stirrings deep inside, both soothing and exciting. Her heart thudded an unsteady rhythm.

His voice took on a tone he’d never used with her, achingly soft. “You are lovely, Leticia. You have skin like a porcelain doll, and eyes like the sea—mysterious and passionate, yet as innocent as a new leaf in spring. And your lips”—he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, sending spirals of tingling warmth outward—“they are like rosebuds waiting for a touch to release their sweetness.” His voice turned sultry. “They would tempt any man.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth. His hand cupping her cheek made slow caresses, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. Every nerve in her body quivered. Her heart flailed against her ribs and her breath came too fast. His aftershave curled around her, drawing her in closer in a blend of familiar bay rum and some other, more exotic, scent. His hand slid along her cheek to her chin. With one finger, he gently lifted her face toward his.

She leaned into him and rested a hand on his chest over his heart. He drew closer, leaning down toward her. His lips parted and came nearer, nearer still. The nervous excitement in her stomach tightened, building up a pressure that must surely shatter her any moment. Her mouth yearned to touch his. Her body craved his arms around her. He closed his eyes. She held her breath, aching, burning for his kiss. The world held its breath in expectant wonder.

No. This was wrong. Tristan was a friend; nothing more. Besides, for all she knew, he presently engaged in an affair with Mrs. Hunter, or someone like her.

She drew back with a strangled laugh and put a shaking hand on her forehead to check for fever. “No wonder you’re such a master seducer. You almost fooled me with that one.”

Tristan opened his eyes, but they were heavy lidded as if coming awake. “Hmm?”

With that sleepy-eyed, slightly bewildered look, he looked so much like the sweet Tristan of her youth that she longed to guide his head to her lap and stroke his hair and listen as he read poetry to her.

Not quite. She wanted nothing more in that instant than to kiss Tristan, either as he appeared now, flushed and confused, or in that magical bubble of desire that had unexpectedly engulfed her a moment ago. She almost laughed. Such an act with Tristan would be foolish on every possible level.

No wonder Elizabeth had fallen so hard for Tristan before she married Richard. No doubt every woman of Tristan’s acquaintance had succumbed to his spell and threw themselves at his feet.

Tristan’s eyes seemed to focus. Stepping away, he dragged his fingers through his hair and blew out his breath. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was as stunned as she. After clearing his throat, he chuckled and shook his head. “Just checking to see if you’re woman enough for these men I’m considering for you.”

“Woman enough?” She lifted a brow.

He winced. “Ah…”

“Don’t move,” rasped another voice. A ragged man holding a knife crouched in the darkest part of the shadows, poised to spring. “Gimme yer valuables, gov’nah. You too, missy.”

Leticia gasped, her heart skittering to a stop. Cold chills spread across her arms.

Tristan stepped in front of Leticia, blocking the man from her view. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“No trouble,” the knifeman said. “Jes gimme yer purse and that there fancy ring and you’ll never see me again.”

Leticia gripped Tristan’s shoulder with both hands and peeked out at the thug.

Tristan stood, calm and courageous. He held out his hand wearing his signet ring, which bore the Barrett family crest, and turned it so the filtered light made the rubies sparkle. “The money I could part with, but this ring has been in my family for generations. It is one of five, which are worn by descendants of the very first Lord Averston dating back to William the Conqueror. If you think I’m going to hand it over because you wave a puny knife at me, you are unforgivably stupid.”

Leticia gasped at his audacity, her gaze darting to their assailant. Surely the thief would be furious.

Tristan reached back and placed a hand on her hip, an intimate, soothing gesture.

The knifeman scowled and brandished the knife. “’and it over, fool, along with yer money, or I’ll carve ye up first and then I’ll ’ave a go at yer ladybird.” He leered at Leticia.

Tristan’s shoulder tensed under Leticia’s hands but his voice remained calm. “Very well. I can see you won’t be reasonable.” He reached into his back pocket underneath his tailcoat and pulled out a small pistol. With a steady hand, he leveled the pistol at the thief. “You will not touch this lady. You aren’t fit to look at her. Now back away and leave us in peace or I’ll be forced to shoot you.”

The thug’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “No trouble, sir, no trouble. I’ll jes’ be on me way.” He faded back into the shadows.

“Back away, Tish.” Tristan took a step back and Leticia followed his lead as if they were dancing in reverse position. When they reached lamplight on a main path, Tristan peered again into the shadows, then guided Leticia forward.

He tucked the gun away and turned to her. “A bit of adventure, now, eh?”

Now that danger had passed, Leticia began shaking. Tristan enfolded both of her hands inside his, strong and safe and steady.