“Go,” she finally said on a shaky exhale. “You must go.”
He did, as reluctantly as he’d ever done anything in his life. He slipped from her room, his body hard and aching, and his heart racing as if he’d run for miles.
A sort of euphoric haze made him feel buoyant, hopeful in a way he’d never been in his life. And it wasn’t the drink. He was sober now. More clearheaded than he’d been in years.
More alive.
By the time he undressed and lay in his bed, a faint echo of doubt crept in, and he questioned whether it had all been some sort of fevered, drunken dream. Except that he could still taste Evie, still smell her lily scent on his skin.
He closed his eyes, and there she was. Red hair, green eyes, not glaring but looking back at him with genuine concern and care, and then something more.
Desire. He hadn’t dared to hope for that part. But he’d felt it in her touch, her kiss.
She wanted him. And that was the answer to a question he only now realized he’d been asking for a very long time.
Gray’s lips curved into a smile as he finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER5
Evie did her best to avoid Gray the next day.
She had no idea what she’d say or how she’d react when they faced each other again.
So she kept herself busy with tasks her aunt had given her, double-checking on guests and the requests they’d made of the staff and ensuring everything was assembled for lawn games if the rain ever allowed the grass to dry. Eventually, the dinner hour arrived, and she couldn’t evade him any longer.
She’d considered taking a tray in her room, but that would worry her aunt. Above all, she didn’t wish to give Aunt Lydia reason to worry. No one could know what a muddle she was in, and, most especially, no one could know why.
In truth, she didn’t fully understand it herself.
WhyhadGray come to her room last night? Why had he kissed her?
His claim that he wanted help selecting a bride had sounded ridiculous when he’d said it and more so now in the light of day. Gray had never been the sort of gentleman who’d let others choose for him.
Though, she supposed, his aunt and hers had narrowed his options to half a dozen ladies. Maybe that was what had him at sixes and sevens.
Now, thanks to him, her feelings were tangled up too. Every time she replayed the evening’s events, she became confused, then irritated, and then ridiculously excited by the memory of her lips against his.
She could admit it to herself now. For the last several years—as she watched him navigate the events her aunt hosted—her feelings for him had grown, and she’d nursed a secret longing. Letting herself imagine being held by him, kissed, cared for. Wanted by him.
Had his feelings for her changed too? Was that what had prompted his late-night visit to her room?
Evie checked herself in her bedroom mirror, drew in a deep breath to settle her nerves, and proceeded down to Carthwaite’s drawing room, where guests waited for the ringing of the dinner gong.
Her aunt sailed toward her the moment she stepped over the threshold.
“My dear, you’ve made yourself so scarce today. I was beginning to worry.”
So much for not arousing Aunt Lydia’s concern.
“I kept myself occupied, but I’m well. Please, there’s no reason for concern. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not at all. Dinner commences soon, and I’m glad for it.” She hooked Evie’s arm with her own and guided her to a spot near the fireplace where they could observe the rest of the guests. “The ladies seem discontented.”
“Do they?” Evie took in the assembled ladies and gentlemen in one sweeping glance.
Of course, all she could see was him.
Gray sat near the center of the room, his gaggle of prospective brides gathered around him on chairs and settees. Everything appeared much as it had the previous day.
