Page 22 of The Rake I Wished For
She’d wanted to stay for Northbridge’s sake. The thought was a burr caught in his skin that he couldn’t seem to remove.
But the thing was, while they’d discussed her upcoming husband hunt on multiple occasions, she’d never mentioned any particular gentleman, and he’d somehow never imagined her with a gentleman of his acquaintance.
Without realizing it, Harlow had turned his attention to Jocelyn again, and so he was now gazing upon her rather than the trees.
A far lovelier sight by far.
He tried to shove the thought aside, but truly, coming so close to kissing the other night had irreparably impaired his brain in some way. The thoughts he’d once been able to sweep aside and tuck away, were more persistent than ever.
He’d long been aware of Jocelyn’s beauty. He’d have had to be blind not to see the charming beauty she’d become. But he’d forced himself to only see her as a friend. Liam’s little sister.
And that’s all she is, he reminded himself now as he studied her profile.
That’s all she can ever be.
He knew the moment she became aware of his eyes on her. He saw it in the way she stiffened slightly and then forced herself to relax. And he knew precisely how hurt she was by the way she refused to so much as glance his way.
She’d barely met his gaze all day, and that was…
He rubbed at his chest as he finally dragged his gaze away.
That was uncomfortable.
The stabbing pain in his chest mocked him.
All right, fine. More like unbearable.
His fingers tapped restlessly against the seat beside him as the countless minutes ticked by. And for the life of him, he couldn’t decide if he resented her maid’s presence or was eternally grateful for it.
There was so much he wanted to say. Questions he wished he could ask.
But he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to hear the answers.
And then there was that part of him that couldn’t forget how close he’d come to losing control on the veranda.
You called my bluff,she’d said.
Had she truly thought he didn’t wish to kiss her? That he was only acting?
Blast. The girl was either ignorant of her own charms—and he knew for a fact she was not—or she thought him blind. Or a eunuch, perhaps.
Or…maybe she truly thought of him as nothing more than a friend. As good as a brother.
Yes, that was likely it.
He couldn’t blame her then for assuming he felt the same. Particularly since hehadseen her as such up until she’d started talking about kisses.
He sighed now, casting another glance her way. This time he caught her looking at him, but she glanced away too quickly for him to catch her eye, and…
What?
Make her smile?
Yes, that was precisely what he’d be doing right now if…
Well, if this were several weeks ago and the little chit hadn’t tortured him with talk of kissing strange men and marrying blasted marquesses.
It felt like an eternity had passed when they finally rolled to a stop at the inn where they’d change their horses and spend the night.
