Page 50 of The Rules of Courtship
“I do not think you should leave my side at all,” he said softly, running his thumbs over the velvet-soft skin on her forearm.
Ruth took a step closer, until their hands were pressed between their bodies, her eyes locked on his. The dark night made her features difficult to discern, but her gaze was resolute, unwavering. This woman held his heart in her dainty hands, and he found himself not caring any longer if she knew. He could be classified alongside Samuel, lovesick and bothersome and utterly enamored with her.
“I am not sure what you mean,” she said quietly.
“I think you do,” he argued, feeling the way her hands shifted in his grip to lean against the lapels of his jacket. His heart pounded so hard, he was certain she would be able to feel it beneath her fingers. Fear and hope wrestled as the silence grew between them, lengthening. He ran his thumb down her wrist and she shivered. “You are cold.”
“Not at present, no,” she argued, holding his gaze. “I am merely wondering what you are thinking about.”
Oliver slid his hand down her arm, moving to grip her back and hold her tightly against him, leaving her other hand flush against his heart. “I have nothing in my mind but you, Ruth.”
At her soft intake of breath, he tossed the remaining dregs of caution to the wind to be carried far from here, cupping the back of her neck and bringing his mouth close to hers. His body yearned to close the distance, to lean forward enough for her lips to be on his, but he waited, cold air nipping his open lips while they hovered just above hers.
She looked up into his eyes before lowering her gaze to his mouth. A shiver wracked his shoulders, his body taut with frayed nerves. All the reasons he should turn from her and walk away pelted him, but still he did not move.
Ruth pressed her fingers against his chest, making him groanlow in his throat. The sound was loud in the silence, but he did not care. She gripped his lapel and pulled him down until his lips met hers.
And then it was madness.
Heat flooded him, pressing out all thoughts until nothing remained but the blissful softness of her lips. Oliver dropped her wrist, pulling her tightly against him while he kissed her thoroughly, losing all sense of his surroundings as he fell into her warmth. Ruth’s fingers slid over his face, driving need deep into him. His pulse thrummed to the beat of four simple words on repeat:I love this woman.
“What?” Ruth asked, breaking away and searching his face.
Had he spoken aloud? This was not how he wanted to share his feelings—he had been utterly backwards about the whole of it. “Ruth?—”
“Yes?”
Their breaths were coming quickly, the air hot between them.
“Never mind,” she said, taking his face between her hands and pulling his head down, her lips finding his. She did not hold back, and when he tilted her chin to deepen the kiss, he felt her heal every bit of him that had felt worry or stress, comfort suffusing him down to his toes.
“What is the meaning of this?” a loud voice rang out, deep and authoritative.
Ruth sprang back, ripped from him, the moment shattered. Oliver was reluctant to release her fully. He held her arm while turning to face the group gathered at the mouth of the garden’s entrance. Lord Rocklin held a lantern, Miss Temple on his arm. Mr. Bailey stood behind them with Mr. Kellinger.
Miss Temple looked wounded, her eyes flicking between Ruth and Oliver as if they’d personally offended her. “Papa,” she breathed quietly, the plea evident in her tone.
Oliver felt Ruth grow tense beneath his hand.
“Mr. Rose,” Lord Rocklin said, his tone harsh and words clipped. “I expect an explanation forthwith.”
Oliver cleared his throat. The options ran through his mind, each one easier to dismiss than the last, chased away by the still swollen feeling in his lips, the warmth on his skin where Ruth’s hand had just been. There was no way to escape this situation unscathed—their lives would be forever changed regardless of the avenue they chose to pursue. But there was one option that would protect Ruth—one thing Oliver could do to safeguard her name and reputation.
Taking Ruth by the hand, Oliver tugged her close to his side. “I hope you will congratulate us, my lord.” Oliver tore his gaze from his host and looked down at Ruth, noting the worry in her eyes, the soft glow from the lantern highlighting the red blush in her cheeks. A strand of hair had come loose from her coiffure and trailed down her temple. He reached over and brushed it back, holding her gaze as he spoke. “Miss Wycliffe has just made me the happiest man in England. She has agreed to become my wife.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rule #18: Sometimes, even rules cannot save you from folly…in which case, smile and escape as quickly as possible
Nothing had gone the way Ruth had expected it to. Ever since Lord Rocklin and the group had found her in the garden with Oliver, things had moved in a whirlwind so quickly she hadn’t been able to stop and catch her breath.
Dropping his protective anger at once, Lord Rocklin congratulated them deeply and ushered them into the house to share their news with the entire party. Lady Helena had seemed surprised, but hid it well beneath a joyful mask—though she could not cover the confusion forming a slight crease between her eyebrows.
“What a lark,” Mr. Bailey said, looking between them. His voice was dry, but his expression cut through her. “In love all this time and not a word of it, eh?”
Ruth wanted to sink into the carpet. Love? It was not two-sided. She might have been developing feelings for Oliver, buthe was merely acting as he believed a gentleman should. He cared about her and her family—but Ruth was not naïve. She was certain he had only acted to save her reputation after she had ruthlessly attacked him with all the pent-up fervor bursting within her. He had needed the distraction, and she had given it to him. He had said himself he only had thoughts of her in his mind, and she was certain he was filling his head with her so he would not linger on his ill father.
He had needed to be distracted, and she had taken advantage of his moment of vulnerability. Ruth would go along with his plan for the night, but as soon as she was able, she would free him from any obligation.
