Page 17 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
James could not say how long he stood there, feeling the call of the wild as he stared at the woodland, but it was at least several minutes. The person did not stir or ask him any questions. James frowned. In truth, this might be the first time in weeks he was in a room with another person who did not rush to fill the space with discourse or pierce him with their endless curiosity and ridiculous questions. As if he were a feral creature on display in a menagerie. Truly, there were times when his family acted shocked when he replied.
James turned around, leaning a shoulder against the wall. Mr. Southby was staring at him, and this chameleon did not look away as if having been caught. There was no guilt or mortification…no wariness. James had always been able to understand an animal in the wild from how they held his stare. This creature had a steady gaze that looked fearlessly out at him and on to the world at large. There was no fear or apprehension in that regard, only bold curiosity that made no apology for its nature.
The chin was very decided. Stubborn almost. The mouth wide and covered with a stiff moustache that curled at the sides. It was a ridiculous little thing, that moustache, but it revealed this creature might have a hint of something whimsical in their character. The gentleman’s eyes were a dark green, mysterious, and lush like the forest.
James supposed this personcouldbe a young gentleman, but he had spent years being silent and observant, for the slightest give in his attention could have cost his life. Could a gentleman have such a soft, pink skin tone? Such delicate cheekbones and nose? Such pretty, lush pink lips?
Perhaps.
He canted his head and stared at this unexpected intrusion into his life. The creature merely stared back.
Some say I am the unflappable sort.
James prowled over, uncaring that he might seem savage or unrefined. The gentleman did not jerk away or act skittish, merely arched an unconcerned brow in question. James moved in even closer, stopping when he was a scant inch away. Lowering his head, he inhaled the unique scent wafting from this person into his lungs. Something almost obscene pulsed through James as his body reacted with a slow stretch to this supposed gentleman’s provocative fragrance.
The shock of it punched him in the gut, and he slowly drifted from Mr. Southby, putting a respectable distance between them. James had the feeling someone extraordinary had stepped into his awareness. He had felt off balance since setting his feet back on the land of civilization. However, for the first time since his return, James felt another sensation that did not reside in remoteness, or aloneness.
Despite this newness, despite that it was different and wholly unique, he did not like it. Anything unfamiliar was dangerous. And there was nothing remotely known in the sensations prickling over his skin.
“It is a most remarkable disguise,” he said, keeping his tone low and careful.
The odd creature opened the notebook, pencil poised to write. “In what way, Your Grace?”
Unflappable.
Those bright green eyes met his unflinchingly.
Audacious.
The mouth smiled as if in challenge. Or was it a taunt?
Daring.
Those brows arched in a challenge.
Foolish.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, surprising James. “Why are you dressed as a gentleman?”
“Why do you stand so close when you must know it is socially scandalous?” Southby asked, eyes gleaming with decided mystery and cunning.
That look of calculation had James staring at Southby intently. “No denial?”
Those lips quirked. “Have you considered I might be an extraordinarily attractive gentleman?”
“You have a very complicated neckcloth knotted at your throat.”
“Most men do.” A shoulder was lifted in a shrug. “Some have called me a dandy. I do not allow it to prick my vanity or assurance. I daresay I am simply too confident.”
“The tie of the cravat is no doubt a bid to hide the softness of your skin and the distinct lack of Adam’s apple. Your scent is of ripened peaches…and the fresh, crisp air after rainfall…a wildflower.”
Curiosity and what he perceived as a glimmer of admiration lit in those lovely, expressive eyes.
“Which wildflower do you perceive I smell like?”
“All of them.” James stepped even closer, forcing Southby’s head to tilt back to regard him.
“There is a trickle of sweat on your temple.” James inhaled again, noting the heat that flashed through him this time seared.
