The Bachelor Earl - Darcy Burke Page 0,46

than a little...tantalized. “Well, I suppose I must be grateful since without your help I would be lost and cold.”

“But dry. I can’t imagine you would have fallen without my intervention.” Now she detected a dash of remorse.

“That’s a nice theory,” she said wryly, “but I did tell you I was clumsy.”

“I suppose we’ll never know,” he mused. “Come, let’s move a bit faster or we’ll both be soaked to the skin.”

She had a sudden vision of him in clothing that was plastered to his muscular, athletic frame. Muscular? Yes, she could tell from his arm and the way he’d lifted her effortlessly from the ground and assisted her across the stream. Athletic? Evidently given how quickly he’d made it down the hill after she’d fallen and the fact that he hadn’t lost his balance as she had. Besides all of that, she had eyes, and she could see he was broad-shouldered and long-legged.

“Do you often go for walks?” she asked, thinking he must.

“Every day. At least once. Like you, I have an affinity for animals. In my case it’s birds.”

“Indeed? What are your favorites?”

“It’s very hard to say,” his response was solemn, as if he were deeply considering her question. “I find myself drawn to birds of the marsh—it’s their long legs and long beaks, I think. There’s something very graceful about their composition and demeanor. Avocets are beautiful. As are godwits.”

“I know next to nothing about birds.” But she suddenly wished to correct that and planned to scour West’s library for every book on ornithology she could find.

“I could teach you,” he offered softly.

It was the nicest, sweetest, most alluring offer she’d ever received.

Too bad she couldn’t accept. He was a steward’s apprentice, and she was the sister-in-law of a duke destined for a grand Season and probably a marriage to a prince. Or at least a duke. That was what she and Ivy joked about at least.

Ivy! She had to be worried sick.

“How far are we from Stour’s Edge?” Fanny asked.

“About a quarter mile, I should think.” He pointed in front of them. “There.” You’d see it if not for the copse of trees and this damned thickening storm.

She recognized the copse from earlier and from the walks she’d taken since coming to Stour’s Edge. It was the stream that had taken her off course—she hadn’t yet crossed it, probably because it had been much wider during the summer months after she’d first arrived.

When they reached the trees, she stopped. “We should part here, I think.”

“You probably don’t want to be seen arriving with me,” he guessed accurately.

“I don’t think that would be wise. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

“Are you sure you can find your way?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I’m quite oriented now. I meant it when I said I didn’t usually get lost.”

“But what about the dancing?” He moved slightly closer. “How am I to know if you can truly dance?”

“If we meet again, I’ll show you,” she promised, even though she knew that would likely never happen.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He glanced up at the sky, blinking. “It really is snowing hard. You should go.”

“I should.”

And yet neither of them moved. They stood there facing each other, arms still clasped, cloaked in white, seemingly alone in the world.

“Pity there isn’t mistletoe,” he said softly.

Oh, he wanted to kiss her!

Good, she wanted him to kiss her too.

She edged closer until they almost touched, chest to chest. “Let’s pretend there is.”

He pitched his head toward hers, and she closed her eyes just before his lips touched hers. They were cold but soft. His arms came around her, and he held her close.

The kiss continued, awakening all of her senses and arousing them so that to her mind there was just him and her and the snowy quiet enveloping their secret embrace. When his tongue licked along her lips, she opened for him, driven by curiosity and a sweet hunger she’d never experienced.

Once inside, his tongue met hers, and he coaxed her fully, showing her what it meant to really be kissed. She’d always wondered, and now she knew.

It was over far too soon, and the cold that he’d banished from her for a few, brief minutes came rushing back, reminding her that she was cold and damp and needed to get inside.

He brushed his gloved fingertips along her cheek. “I refuse to say good-bye, so I’ll just say, Happy Christmas.”

She refused to say good-bye too, even though she knew it was. “Happy