Page 25 of The Rake I Wished For
Mrs. Clemens came down to join them after they’d eaten, and the three of them agreed to spend some time in the inn’s parlor with its cozy fire and walls lined with books rather than head straight to their rooms.
They’d be cooped up once more in the carriage the very next morning, Harlow had said. Why not spend their evening enjoying the company of others?
Which…they did.
Sort of. Mrs. Clemens enjoyed the company of strangers, but Jocelyn and Harlow found themselves on the far side of the room.
“Look at her hands fly,” Jocelyn marveled as she and Harlow looked over to Mrs. Clemens, who was talking quietly with two matrons who had their hands full of yarn as well.
“She’s a marvel,” Harlow agreed.
They’d fallen into their ways so easily, Jocelyn could almost forget about the awkwardness they’d endured in the carriage all day.
Yes, that near kiss and his uncharacteristically overprotective behavior that ensued were all but gone from her mind.
“You know what I think…” He leaned in toward her on the settee, and she jerked back so quickly his eyes widened in surprise. Embarrassment flooded her, along with an awareness she’d never known before.
She was aware of the heat of his body, of the way his hand looked so much bigger than hers where it was splayed on the seat beside her. She was aware of the way his eyes glinted in the firelight when he was teasing her or making her laugh.
She angled herself sideways, putting some room between them.
Oh drat. Had she really thought they’d gone back to normal?
They had…
And they hadn’t.
This was normal and it wasn’t.
In short, it was all quite confusing.
She swallowed hard and tried to pretend she hadn’t just jerked away from him like she was a spooked cat. “You were saying?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
She had no idea what he’d been saying, and it seemed neither did he.
Well. This was awkward. She cast a quick, nervous glance around the room, wishing quite desperately that Mrs. Clemens would suddenly notice how closely they were sitting and intervene.
But no. The older woman was happily chatting with her new friends.
Truly, a terrible chaperone. Jocelyn nibbled on her lip as she cast another glance around. She lit up when her gaze fell on a familiar object in a corner.
She turned to face Harlow, only to find him staring at her lips. She stopped worrying her lower lip, and his gaze lifted, and…
Oh.
Oh dear.
There was that heat again. That dark passion that was not at all the warm, affectionate, friendly gaze she was used to.
Oh no, not at all.
She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and then… “Chess!”
She said it too loudly, and now it was his turn to jerk in surprise.
“Ah. Yes. Excellent,” he said, hurrying over to fetch the board. They repositioned themselves at a small table and two chairs before the fire as the evening brought with it a draft that had Mrs. Clemens’ friends disappearing to their rooms, and her chaperone settling in contentedly in a large armchair.
