Page 13 of Awakening a Lord's Desires
“I can say that, no, I have not,” he replied with a slight chuckle. “It is not one of the hobbies that is genuinely attributed to gentlemen of means.”
“Quite right,” she agreed with a bright smile. “But I suppose if there was a gentleman of means who decided that to search for herbs was his hobby, he might not admit it. Perhaps you secretly enjoy such a task, and you would never say so in truth, even when there is no one save myself to hear you.”
He threw back his head and laughed, and Caroline stood in amazement for a few seconds. He was holding the basket and his cravat was a little loosened. As he leaned his head back, his curls bounced with the movement. He was boyish and yet manly at the same time.
There was something so intriguing about him that Caroline had not yet seen in any other young man. And as he leaned back, she’d seen the strength and thickness of his throat and watched his Adam’s apple as it bobbed when he swallowed. She had never thought a neck could be so enticing, and yet she found she couldn’t look away from it for several seconds.
When he looked at her again, his eyes were bright. “I swear to you to never lie to you, Miss Turner. In truth, I have never searched for herbs, and I know nothing about them. Please, do share your knowledge.”
To hide the colour on her cheeks, Caroline bent down and picked up another sprig of thyme. It was the first time a man had asked her for her own thoughts, her own wealth of knowledge, and it was a strange feeling. She liked it, but she was uncertain of it at the same time.
She turned away, leading the way again towards the meadow and the edge of the forest. They were close to her house now. She could see it in the distance, and yet she didn’t care. She wanted nothing more than to be there in that moment, teaching him what she knew.
“Most of the time I come and see what I can find. Thyme and rosemary are the easiest to find, for they can bloom on their own. They do not need help. They can grow in the meadows without problem.”
“I see, but what is your favourite?”
He followed along close behind, and every so often, his shoulder would brush against hers as they walked together, trampling through the meadow. It sent shocks of heat through her body, but she tried to focus on the task at hand. They were out in the woods. Anything could happen. And yet she knew that it should not. That she should be sensible as best as she could.
“If I had to choose my favoyrite herb,” she said, “I believe it would be mint. Whenever I find it, I bring it back and Cook lets it steep with cold tea. It is the most refreshing thing on a hot afternoon. And I crave it when it is not the season for it.”
She paused, leaning down to pick up something. It was, yet again, another sprig of rosemary. She picked it, turning to the basket to place it inside.
But at the same time as she was about to put it into the basket, Lord Spencer had reached out a hand to assist her, and their fingers brushed against one another. A jolt passed through her. She kept her eyes on their hands to focus elsewhere, except for his eyes, for she could feel him looking at her. She needed a moment or two to calm herself.
But the temptation was too great to look up into his eyes and to see what he was thinking. When she did, she saw him staring at her, a little bit surprised. They had touched before, but this accidental touch was different. His eyes moved to her mouth. She swallowed, afraid of what that meant. They were alone. Anything could happen. He could kiss her, and no one would know. If only the both of them would keep the secret.
But then the clatter of wagon wheels jolted her back to reality. She turned to look at the drive to her house, seeing a familiar carriage riding up. Her heart sank when she realised it was Max. She grabbed hold of Lord Spencer’s arm and pulled him forward until she was hiding behind a tree, her back to it and Lord Spencer right in front of her, now just close enough to kiss.
Chapter 13
“What is it?” Charles asked, noticing Miss Caroline’s distress.
He leaned to the side of her to see where she had been looking. A carriage with an unfamiliar crest had arrived at her home. Charles pulled back to look at her face. She was pale, her eyes wide with something like fear.
Her hand was still on his arm, and he was standing so close to her, practically leaning over her as she pressed her back against the tree, hiding away from whoever was inside that carriage. When she pulled him close, he had to catch himself on the edge of the trunk so that he did not crush her.
But his hand was close enough to her waist that his thumb could brush against the soft fabric of her gown and almost feel the shape of her. He did not move his hand, and yet he stroked his thumb along her side, making her eyes close as she let out a breath.
He could feel her breath brush along his cheek, and he knew she too could feel what was between them. Which was something stronger than he’d ever felt in the whole of his life. He was glad there was still some distance between them, enough so that she could not feel just how hard he was. It was neither helpful nor proper.
What had he been thinking when he went out in search of her? Riding along the path as haphazardly as usual, his eyes looking left and right for the sylvan creature who had so bewitched him from the very first day.
For what could he do now? She was practically in his arms, and yet he knew it was a foolish thing to even think of doing more.
With her eyes still closed, she spoke, “It is my stepmother’s nephew. I did know he was coming, and I’m still surprised to see him.”
Charles gritted his teeth. The nephew to her stepmother, therefore no relation to her and likely of a similar age. He was grateful that she did not seem to like him. But even so, jealousy consumed him.
Her eyes flickered open, and he stared down into their blue depths. He had the greatest urge to lift his hand to her soft cheek to feel the satin skin beneath his roughened fingertips. He almost did, until she pulled away, slipping out from underneath him, holding out her hand for her basket.
“I must go,” she said, her eyes looking at her basket only, not at him. Her voice was shaky, and her pulse was tripping at her throat. “My stepmother will be expecting me to greet my cousin, I suppose. She will wish me to be dressed properly, and I wish to rush upstairs before I am caught in a sitting room unawares. I need time to prepare to see him.”
He smiled, schooling his features so that he did not look as disappointed as he felt. Of course, he passed the basket to her.
“We must consider another day in which you can teach me more about the herbs.”
He was staring at her, and yet she did not look up again. Nodding quickly as he passed her the basket, she said, “Yes. We will find something, My Lord.”
