Page 34 of The Courtship Trap
She gasped in mock outrage and leaned over to swat at his arm. Sebastian laughed, and for a moment, it was as though no time had passed at all—as though they were still young, still carefree, still standing in Avonmead’s library making lists of all the places they would go, all the books they would read. The thought made his chest tighten.
But then the carriage slowed, and the spell was broken.
“We have arrived,” Lady Wood murmured, tucking away her book.
Sebastian reached for the door and stepped out first, turning to offer his arm to Harriet. Her gloved fingers, soft and warm, slipped around his elbow, and for the briefest moment, he felt something old and familiar stir in his chest. Then she was stepping down, and he let go an instant too quickly.
Inside Hatchards, the air smelled of leather, paper, and burning oil. Harriet lit up at once, surveying the towering bookshelves like a conqueror surveying her new domain.
Sebastian peered down at her, dismayed at how familiar this felt. “Shall we make a list first or dive in blindly?”
Harriet tilted her head. “Where is the adventure in making lists?”
He chuckled. “Where is the sense in wandering aimlessly?”
Harriet sighed. “Very well. A brief list, then.”
She led them toward a quiet corner, where she and Lady Wood scribbled down titles and subjects while Sebastian leaned against a nearby shelf, watching her.
Harriet had changed. She was more guarded. More careful. But then she would smile—truly smile—and she was the girl he had once known again. Which one was real? And which one would break his heart if he let himself believe in her again?
“Sebastian?”
He blinked. Harriet was watching him, her head tilted in curiosity. “You looked lost in thought,” she murmured.
He straightened. “Just wondering how long I shall be made to carry your selections.”
She laughed and turned away, moving toward a tall shelf. Sebastian followed at a leisurely pace, watching as she scanned the spines, her fingers trailing over the leather bindings. Then she spotted something.
Without hesitation, she grasped the ladder and began to climb. Sebastian felt his pulse kick up unexpectedly.
She moved with ease, the hem of her skirts lifting slightly as she reached for a book. And then he saw it. A flash of stocking. Not wool for the chilly weather, but silk. A glimpse of delicate slipper. A small, utterly indecent peek of trim ankle.
Sebastian swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away. But it was too late. The damage was done. Then?—
A gasp.
A slip.
Harriet’s foot missed the rung.
Sebastian lunged forward without thinking. She spun around as she fell against him, her momentum knocking them both back slightly before he caught them both steady. And then, silence.
Harriet froze in his arms. Sebastian’s heart pounded violently as he realized how close she was. Her face was mere inches from his, her breath warm against his cheek. His hands were firm around her waist, holding her close. Slowly, she tilted her head up, her lips parted ever so slightly.
Sebastian’s grip tightened. And then he realized—they were alone. No one in sight. He dampened his lips.
Harriet’s eyes dropped to his mouth. And Sebastian—God help him—he closed the distance.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing a memory. But then it deepened, intensified, an ache twisting through his chest as something wild and long-buried roared to life when their lips fused together. It was as though no time had passed at all. As though they were still young, still foolish, still tangled in each other’s arms beneath the stars at Avonmead.
Sebastian’s tongue slipped into her mouth to find hers, silky and hot, melting together as if both starved for human contact, and they surrendered to their fervor.
Footsteps in the next aisle brought him back to his senses. Time had passed. They were no longer a couple. And Sebastian was no longer the boy who had loved her so recklessly.
He pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still curled around her waist. Harriet stared at him, her lips still slightly parted, her eyes dark with an emotion he could not yet name. He tasted honey on his tongue.
And Sebastian knew, with absolute certainty?—
