The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,18

of breath, she did not immediately reply. Then she looked up at his face…and couldn’t have answered him even if she’d wanted to.

Her knight was, without a doubt, the most fascinatingly handsome man she’d ever seen. His countenance was all hard angles and sharp points and a jaw the size of a brick. He had full lips, a long nose, and slashing brows above blue eyes so cold she felt a shiver race down her spine. His hair, black and thick and swept back beneath a sleek top hat, was longer than fashion allowed, but Calliope had a feeling he didn’t care a whit about fitting in with the current trend.

Broad shoulders and a wide chest tapered to a trim ribcage and narrow waist. His legs were long, his powerful thighs clearly defined beneath the thick linen fabric of his breeches. Even fully dressed it was evident every inch of him was covered in muscle, and her cheeks bloomed a bright, vibrant pink when her traitorous mind suddenly imagined what he might look like if he wasn’t fully dressed.

“Oh,” she gasped as the heat from her face trickled down to her breasts and then pooled, sticky and warm, in her belly. Never in all her life had she had such a visceral reaction to a member of the opposite sex before. It was startling. It was intimidating. It was…

“Amazing,” she breathed.

“What was that?” the man asked sharply.

“N-nothing.” Except it wasn’t nothing. Calliope knew what nothing was. It’s what she’d felt every time she’d been asked to dance. It’s what she’d felt every time she’d looked at one of the men Helena pointed out in a tea shop or a ballroom or a play. It’s what she’d felt every time she’d interacted with a gentleman she was supposed to find attractive but didn’t.

That was nothing. They were nothing. But this glowering stranger – and her reaction to him – was most definitely something.

“Would you mind helping me up? I think I may have turned my ankle.” She held out her arm, and after a moment’s hesitation he took her smaller hand in his much larger one and yanked her unceremoniously to her feet. The instant she was standing he let her go, and his glare intensified as he looked down at her fingers before his gaze jerked back to her face.

“You’re not wearing gloves.” His frown deepened when he glanced at her hair, tangled and full of leaves. “Or a hat.” His gaze swept down her body. A line embedded itself between his brows. “Or shoes.”

“I took them off,” Calliope confessed. Reaching up, she plucked a leaf from behind her ear and then watched as it floated to the ground. “I was, um, hiding from someone.”

“In a tree?”

“I’m a very good climber. Usually.” She met his icy stare. “My foot slipped, and I, well…”

“Landed on top of me,” he said flatly.

She bit her lip. “Yes. So it seems. I do apologize.”

He removed his hat, raked a hand through his hair, and then shoved the hat back on, albeit at a slightly skewed angle. The tilted brim gave him a rakish appearance, as if he were a pirate commanding the helm of a great ship. Or a thief stepping out of the shadows in St Giles.

“Do you require any further assistance?” he asked.

Why yes, as it so happens, I do. You see, I must find someone to marry within the next sixteen days or give everything I have to my loathsome cousin. So if you’re amendable to the idea, and you’re not already married or a terrible rogue or in debt up to those chilling blue eyes of yours, would you do me the kindness of being my husband?

“No.” Another leaf came dislodged from her hair as she vigorously shook her head from side to side in an effort to shake loose the absolutely absurd idea of an impromptu proposal to a complete stranger. “No further assistance necessary. Thank – thank you for breaking my fall.”

“It was my pleasure.” Except the way he spoke it didn’t sound as if he’d found the act pleasurable at all. Not that Calliope could blame him. She certainly wouldn’t want someone to fall on her out of the sky.

“Is there something else?” he said curtly, and it was then she realized she was standing in his way. Wrapping her arms self-consciously around her middle (she may have been in a dress with a matronly neckline and long sleeves besides, but without her bonnet or shoes or