The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,38
Castle Combe.”
The sun shone in earnest now, and Sarah felt more lighthearted than she’d felt in a long time. So much for her avowed disinterest in men. For better or for worse, all concerns over protecting her heart were forgotten.
Later that night, she looked back over the day she’d spent in the company of the charming and amiable Lord Rutherford. Lacock had been a wonderful side excursion. She truly couldn’t remember the last time she so thoroughly enjoyed a day. There was no schedule, and although they’d tentatively planned to visit Castle Combe after Lacock, nothing was compulsory.
The thirteenth century village with its quaint streets lined by row upon row of beautifully preserved cottages, some lime-washed and half-timbered, others of golden stone, made Lacock the perfect example of an English country village. Besides Pride & Prejudice, it served as a location for Moll Flanders, Emma, and most recently, for the Harry Potter films.
They lingered as long as they liked in Lacock, lunching at a fifteenth century inn with charming wood beam ceilings, stone fireplaces, flagstone floors, and horse-hair plasterwork.
Alex was so patient, even while she dallied in Lacock’s shops. She purchased a book on the making of Pride & Prejudice from the National Trust Store, intending to savor it on the flight home.
They stopped at the various locations used in Pride & Prejudice, tossing out remembered lines from the movie, with him laughing at her lame acting skills.
His portrayal of the ridiculous Mr. Collins launched her into unrelenting giggles. But even with the absurdity of Mr. Collins’ proposal to Lizzy, her heart fluttered when taking her hand in his, his other hand to his heart, Alex said, “‘And now nothing remains, but to assure you, in the most animated language, of the violence of my affections!’”
She hugged a pillow to her chest. She didn’t know the violence of Alex’s affections, but the violence of her own affections was growing, and it was only the third day since she’d met him.
Of all the unexpected events for which she had contingency plans: lost luggage, missed connections, stolen credit cards, meeting and falling for an earl was not among those events.
She didn’t want to engage in too much introspection, because she was having too much fun. Ann deemed that one of her character flaws, over-thinking things, when she should just go with the flow. Ironic, because she hadn’t over-thought Adrian, and look where that had gotten her.
She sighed. Alex was refined and intelligent; masculine and athletic; funny, gregarious, and sweet; she could go on and on. She’d already learned to recognize what his smiles meant. There was the sweet smile, which he wore when he talked about his mother or grandmother; the mischievous smile, which appeared just before he said something he knew would aggravate her; and there was the self-conscious smile he wore after the episode in the Stonehenge car park.
She felt both comfortable around him and giddy at the same time. There was no denying his sex appeal. Every time he touched her, even an innocent hand on her back when he guided her through doors, sent shivers along her spine.
She was always very much aware of his presence. His scent, which still lingered on her clothes when she’d taken them off tonight, was delicious; a subtle blend of his cologne and his own masculine scent.
She realized that her notion of Adrian as romantic hero paled in comparison. Alex was Darcy, Knightly, and Captain Wentworth all rolled into one appealing package. That, more than anything else, worried her most. Alex embodied all of her romantic fantasies, so how could she not fall for him?
But on a deeper level, she already felt as if she could tell him anything. He was such a good listener, making her feel as if there was no one else in the world, much less in the room, but her. He wasn’t judgmental, only supporting and understanding.
This was insane. She wasn’t ready for a relationship, any relationship, much less a long, no, really long distance relationship. They lived four thousand miles apart. Tomorrow she was going to tell him that this—thing—couldn’t go anywhere.
But then what if she’s making more out of it than he is? That would be humiliating.
She groaned and rolled over. What should she do? She wished she could talk to Becca or Ann about it . . . but then again, they would only encourage it.
Wrangling with this Gordian Knot she’d gotten herself into was going to keep her up all night, and short