cannot deny that there is something, even though you want to.”
I might not deny it, but neither did I have to admit it. “If not to prove me wrong, what did you set out to do?”
“Is it so hard to believe I truly did not want Northam to have you?”
“Yes.” There were other ways to ensure marriages didn’t happen. There was more to his story than he was telling me.
But merely convincing me how wrong I was also didn’t seem a strong enough motivation to engage himself to me anymore. The conceited baron from before would have done so at all costs, but this man before me who shared memories and smiles?
So then, why?
Gregory stood. “I know you must miss your brother and—how did you phrase it? All the little irritants he provides? So . . .” He held up the paper. “How about a race?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t tell him that it was because I couldn’t spend time with him, because whenever we spent time together I felt more drawn to him, felt as though I wanted to always be with him. “We’ll be late for breakfast.”
He shrugged. “As the master of this estate, I think I can put off breakfast by a few minutes. Besides, we both know that’s just an excuse.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Ah.” Gregory grinned. “I finally found something at which I have a chance at besting you.” He handed me a sheet of the newsprint. “A boat is only as good as its folds, so pay careful attention.”
I tried to hand the paper back. “Why don’t you fold it for me?”
He frowned in mock sternness. “If I folded both boats, then I would merely be racing against myself. There is no entertainment in that, let me assure you.”
I looked down at the paper. A little competition to ease my anxiety. That’s what Daniel would say.
I did miss him. And Alice and Mother and my lake.
Perhaps this diversion was exactly what I needed.
“Fine, oh talented one. Please instruct me on the intricacies of building a boat.”
“Your wish is my command.” Gregory sat on the other side of the bench and set his paper between us. “Fold it over like this and make a good crease.” He showed me how to first make a hat from the paper, then continued to make a boat. I followed his instructions until the final step of tugging the sides apart. “Won’t I rip it?”
“Would you like some help?”
I nodded and, using both hands so it didn’t unfold, held my boat up for him. Instead of taking it, Gregory placed his hands over mine on the paper. My eyes flew to his. His gaze held mine as he slowly drew the corners apart. “As long as you’re gentle, it will turn out perfectly.” He hands lingered on mine a moment before I realized I shouldn’t be looking at him, shouldn’t be touching him.
I stood. “So, that’s all, then?”
“Yes. You are an excellent student.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard that.” I lifted my boat for examination while I tried to still the pounding of my heart.
He eyed me as though he wanted to offer a rejoinder, but then stood as well. We walked up the river until we’d passed the back of the house before moving to the water and bending down.
“On my mark,” he said. “One, two, three.” We both dropped our boats into the water. He’d pushed his so that it careened out into the current. Mine floated hopelessly at the side.
“You need a stick.” He searched the ground a moment before straightening with a long stick. “I should thank the groundskeepers for overlooking this.” He held it out to me.
“I just push it off?”
He nodded.
I set the stick against the boat and started to push.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing my hand. “You have to push from the bottom or you’ll capsize it.” With his hand on mine, Gregory guided the stick to the bottom of the boat and helped me push it off into the current, where it chased after his. When we straightened, my back brushed his chest.
I wanted to stay just like this, with him close, his hand still over mine, no worries about intent or the future or the past marring the moment.
“Should we follow?” he whispered, his thumb sliding over my fingers.
We should. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. Not yet. If only I could know the real reason as to why he insisted on keeping