Page 12 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
“This is the first time it’s felt likeyousince you walked into my conservatory.” Another tear slipped down, and she bit her lip, willing the emotions away. “I don’t want you begging my forgiveness or agreeing with me just to be agreeable. I prefer you when you’re devilish and mercurial.”
He chuckled, gusts of his breath making a strand of her hair flutter against her neck, and something unfurled inside her. A tight, miserable knot of resentment she’d held onto for far too long.
“Was I so mercurial?” he whispered against her hair.
Her body was fitted against him as if there was no place it would rather be, and she could not bring herself to pull away.
“Perhaps that sounds too appealing,” she mumbled, her cheek just next to his. “Moody, then.”
He pulled back, enough to look down at her. Good grief, they were close. Her heartbeat seemed to sync with his, and there was such yearning in his gaze. Desire that she’d long hoped to see there.
“I’m afraid I can’t be devilish anymore, Fiona.” Glancing away, she saw the muscles in this throat work as he swallowed hard. “She’s reliant on me entirely. Aurelia. I don’t want to fail her.”
Fiona reached a hand up and ran her fingertips along his jaw. “You’ll do your best. I’m certain of it.”
“I could use help.”
“Why not ask Caro?” His sister already had a daughter of her own and would guide another flawlessly.
In her brief marriage, Fiona had become pregnant once and for only a few months. That loss had made it difficult for her to face trying again, and she’d spent years accepting that motherhood would not be her fate.
He lowered his arms to hold her lightly around the waist. They were being far too familiar with each other, but Fiona couldn’t bring herself to put a stop to it.
“I have considered Caro, of course.” He looked toward his house, pursed his lips in the way that used to make her long to kiss him—it still did—and then gazed at her again. “But as I said earlier, Aurelia has asked to meet you.”
Fiona moved to step away from him. He hesitated a moment before allowing it. Mention of the girl’s admiration for her made Fiona oddly ill at ease. She’d made a practice of late of not giving a fig what others thought of her. It had become her life’s philosophy.
So why did she worry she might fall short in this young lady’s estimation?
“Any notion of why she’s so keen?” Fiona waved him off and stepped away. “Don’t repeat that drivel about how popular I am. There are many who host better parties and wear more fashionable gowns. Is it just because we’re neighbors?”
He stared at her, as if calculating what he should say or how to say it.
“What is it going to take to get you to loosen your tongue with me again?”
As if a magician had waved a wand, he transformed. That gorgeous, wolfish grin that she’d come to know so well curved his full lips.
“I have a few ideas,” he said in voice so low it made her shiver.
There.Thatwas the Dash she knew. The flirtatious scoundrel she’d missed so much.
Fiona took the two steps to bring them face to face again.
“Tell me,” she said, one fingertip tapping against the buttons of his waistcoat. “Why does Miss Forbes wish to meet me?”
“I suspect,” he said quietly and then winced before continuing, “she wants your help with her coming out.”
Fiona took a step away so quickly, she almost stumbled. Dash reached out to steady her, his large warm hand heating up the stretch of bare skin at her wrist.
“No, Dash. How can you think I’d be a good advisor to a young woman on the cusp of entering the marriage mart?”
“You did well yourself. Married your first Season out.”
There was a bite of bitterness in his tone that Fiona was tempted to interrogate, but she was too distracted by the error of thinking she’d be a good chaperone or advisor to his young ward.
“Did well, did I? And here I thought you were not fond of my late husband.”
“I hardly knew him,” he said dismissively.
