Page 27 of The Season for Loving
She had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to explain.”
“It’s nothing you should worry about. Much,” he finished with a mutter. “Apologies aside, what else did you wish to discuss with me?”
She clasped her hands loosely in her lap, so as not to fidget. “As you can imagine, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened last night. About the last few weeks, actually. I feel I owe you an explanation for my actions.”
He’d started shaking his head before she’d even finished. “No, I’m the one who should explain. It was I who selfishly agreed to your suggestion that I pretend to court you. That was obviously a poor decision on my part, and I fear I gave you the wrong idea.”
Though her heart sank, she wasn’t ready to call a retreat. “You mean to say thatImisapprehended your feelings for me, do you not? Actually, I don’t know at all how you feel about me. I don’t even know if you like me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said in a gruff voice. “I think you’re wonderful. It’s just that…” He trailed off, apparently unable or unwilling to be more specific.
“Well, never mind that for the moment,” she said. “What I do know is how I feel about you. And I suspect those feelings would have developed without any encouragement from you, feigned or otherwise.”
He gazed at her, clearly troubled.
“Don’t you want to know what those feelings are?” she asked.
One corner of his firm mouth kicked up in a wry smile. “Short of making a dash for it, I suspect I don’t have much of a choice other than to find out, do I?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He certainly wasn’t making it easy on her. Then again, nothing worth having was ever easy.
“After all,” he added, “I can’t spend my remaining days here avoiding you. It would be quite a blow to my masculinity to be forced to cower in my room by a slip of a girl.”
“I’m not a slip of a girl,” she said indignantly.
When he grinned at her, Georgie realized he was beginning to enjoy himself. Or, rather, enjoy putting her on the hot seat.
We’ll see about that, Mr. Fergus Haddon.
“To put it bluntly,” she said in a brisk tone, “I’ve fallen in love with you, Fergus. And it’s not because you’ve led me on. It’s because of who you are and how you make me feel about myself. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever known.”
He looked stunned—again. Still, he wasn’t stopping her. So, progress.
She stood and drifted over to join him. When she placed a hand on his chest, she could feel the hard, fast thumping of his heart. “I’m so used to being an invalid, having to cater to everyone’s fears about me. But it’s not like that when I’m with you, Fergus. With you, I feel like myself again. The way I used to be before I got sick, only better. Honestly, I thought I’d never feel that way again.”
When he pressed her hand against the silk of his waistcoat, she gazed up into his serious, handsome face and put all her hopes and dreams into words that seemed hopelessly inadequate. “You came to the Friar’s House and everything changed. I began to dream again. I began to see possibilities for the sort of life I’d all but forgotten about these past few years. Do you know how wonderful that is?”
He stared at her with a longing she’d never seen on another man’s face. It made her knees go weak and her heart pound madly against her ribcage.
But when he blinked, it was like a shutter had been rolled down. He took her hand from his chest and carefully unwound his fingers from hers. “Georgie, I—”
“Let me finish,” she said rather desperately. “I know something is holding you back, but for just this moment, I want you to forget about it and tell me how you truly feel about me. Because if I didn’t entirely disgust you last night, and if you do have feelings for me, I’d like us to…um, I’d like to…” Good Lord, she was making a hash of things.
“Well, I’d like to court you,” she said in a rush. “If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, that is.”
Oh, dear.That really hadn’t come out the way she’d intended.
Fergus looked utterly astounded. Georgie was so mortified that she was hard-pressed not to slink out of the room. Without a doubt, this conversation had turned into the most humiliating experience of her life.
“Say something,” she said tersely.
“I,” he started. Then he grimaced and pressed a hand to his lips. A moment later, Fergus burst into laughter. And not a polite chuckle, either. He was bent almost double, gasping as he tried to control himself.
She gathered up the tattered shreds of her dignity. “If you’re going to act like that, I’m leaving.”
But before she took two steps, he reached out a hand and reeled her back in. “Nay, lass. You’ll not be running away after that little performance.”
“It wasn’t a performance! I meant every word I said.”
