That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,61

rapid pulse, she smoothed her crumpled skirt and pinned her straying locks back in place. What had come over her? Why had she so forgotten herself that she had allowed him to kiss her, and even worse, responded? Her head was so clear and so sensible, but her feelings were turbulent and out of control.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

She did not dare look at him. She was uncomfortably aware that his dark eyes were still full of desire and she knew that if she looked at him she would stay. Without waiting for him to reply she turned and ran down the forest path, not looking back. She arrived back at her aunt’s villa ten minutes later flustered and out of breath. She slipped in at the door without ringing the bell and ran up to her room, not allowing herself to stop until she had closed the door behind her.

Fortunately, her aunt and cousin were in their rooms changing for luncheon, and had not noticed her absence. Even so, she must make sure she was composed before she appeared downstairs.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and at last allowed herself to rest. Her breathing was coming thick and fast, and her feet were sore. She kicked off her shoes and luxuriated in the freedom it brought her. Her shoes had been designed for gentle strolling on properly paved paths, not running over rough and uneven forest floors.

Why had Alex kissed her? she wondered as she began to regain her breath. Was it really nothing more then a desire for dalliance? She did not think so. His kiss had been too intense. It had carried the full weight of his heart and soul behind it.

Or at least, so it had seemed to her. But she had to admit that she was inexperienced in such matters.

Oh, it was so perplexing! For all she knew, it could have been motivated solely by a desire to stop her marrying Lord Chuffington. But that would imply jealousy, and why would he be jealous if he did not have any feelings for her? Particularly if he had feelings for Eugenie?

This thought was too difficult to answer, and so she turned her attention to the problem of why he had told her that she couldn’t marry Lord Chuffington in the first place. What had given him the preposterous idea she was likely to do so? It must have been some idle village gossip.

She would have told him that he was mistaken if he had given her a chance, but just as she had been about to do so he had accused her of being about to marry for position and a manor house, and then, before she could gather her scattered wits, he had driven all thought of anything else out of her mind by kissing her.

That wasn’t a kiss. This is a kiss.

His words came back to her. Oh, yes, that was a kiss. It had been like nothing she had ever experienced before, and deep in the heart of her she knew that she wanted to experience it again. But she could not allow herself to do so.

She began to change, taking off her plain skirt and blouse and changing them for something more modish. As she did so she could not help wishing that the present customs did not demand her to change her clothes several times a day. One outfit for the daytime and another for evening seemed to her to be quite sufficient.

Still, she could not run contrary to society in every way, and so she donned a simple day dress in a tiny blue-and-white check, with a high neckline, sashed waist and long sleeves, before going downstairs for luncheon.

She had by now completely recovered from her exertions, and bore no visible traces of what had just happened.

‘Ah! Just in time,’ said her aunt, as she went into the sitting-room. ‘It is half past twelve. Mr Evington should be here any minute, and then we will go into lunch.’

Making no mention of the fact that she had already seen Mr Evington that morning, Cicely set about composing herself, knowing that she must be able to spend the next few hours in his company without becoming distracted by wayward thoughts.

True to her aunt’s prediction, Alex was at that moment announced. He greeted Sophie and Mrs Lessing then turned to Cicely politely, giving no sign that anything untoward had passed between them. For this Cicely was grateful. The luncheon