Page 44 of The Betrothal

“I came to check on Ben but saw you guys were chatting.” He dipped his eyes to the empty plates. “You got him to eat.”

I shrugged as if it were nothing, but something akin to pride surged in me.

“I figured we could have these by the lake, now that the TV is out for the count.” He pushed his bottom lip out but couldn’t keep it up for long, laughing and leading the way.

He nudged me towards the metal bench beside the gazebo, which had also been swept clear of the endless snow. A towel had been laid over it to dry the remaining dampness.

I grinned and sat, accepting the steaming coffee while he settled in next to me.

“Who has a lake?” I broke the easy silence.

“They have a lot.” He looked wistful for a moment. “And also, not a lot.”

“How so?” I twisted away from the frost-tipped view over the body of water to give Seb my full attention. His big black coat was pulled close around him. He slowly unzipped it, lost briefly in thought. Winter was odd that way, bitter cold, but the sunlight could boil you from the inside.

“Asset rich, cash poor. For now.”

“Oh.” The thought that I was another mouth to feed made me shift uncomfortably on the seat.

“They get by. I mean, just wait until you see the manor. It needs a lot more work, but we can’t go feeling sorry for them quite yet.” He leaned in to jostle me lightly with his shoulder, and my guilt lifted.

“I’d like to see it.”

“I’m sure Alex will take you?” he suggested.

I laughed deeply at that. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet.”

He scoffed, sipping the coffee again. His free arm coming to rest along the back of the bench behind me, and I could feel its presence as if it lay along my bare skin.

Lifting it slowly, he pinched a lock of my silver hair, and I began explaining before I really realised. “It’s genetic, from my–” shit. “Father. I get it from my father.”

I’d not spoken about my family, and a cold that didn’t relate to the snow took up residence where my stomach had been.

“I like it.”

I cocked a brow at him, but he simply shrugged at my incredulity.

“What? I do.” His fingers gave the strand the gentlest tug, leaving my mouth parted on a tiny gasp. His palm came to rest on my shoulder, a comfortable pressure grounding me when the compliment had me unsure what to say next.

“I like all of you.”

I blew out my disbelief in a short exhale.

“Isabelle,” he chided. I looked into his eyes and found absolute, open earnestness looking back at me. “I’ve spent the whole day searching for a distraction because every second that I am unoccupied, my mind drifts to you. In the shower room.”

My heart thudded when he shifted closer to me, hand gliding up from my shoulder to gently cup my neck, thumb ghosting along my jaw.

“The way you looked at me.”

My eyes dropped to his chest, unable to hold his earnest gaze, but I forced them back up over his mouth, finally meeting his eyes once again.

“The way your breath caught.”

I took a jerky breath, my body proving his point.

“I can’t think of anything else since I suggested getting filthy in the shower.”

“I think you actually suggested getting clean in the shower,” I corrected.