Page 49 of Stolen Time

Because although she’d told him she hoped he would be her consort, he had the feeling that the situation now felt far more real than it had even a day earlier.

Well, they would have some of Mabel’s excellent lemonade, and at least when they kissed, they would both taste sweet and tangy.

He sipped from his glass while Abigail did the same. However, after a second swallow, she placed her tumbler back down on the tray.

“I’m ready now,” she said softly.

His heart gave one heavy thump, but he did his best to look calm as he set his glass of lemonade on the tray next to hers.

“You’re sure?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes. I just wanted to have a little lemonade to steady my nerves.”

Seth didn’t know how much good the lemonade would do…he had a feeling the moonshine his brother had been transporting over the hill to Prescott might be somewhat more effective…but he thought it best not to comment on that.

Somehow, his feet managed to move him a step closer to her, and then another. Now they were nearer than they’d ever been, and he noticed that a scent of roses clung to her hair, an aroma that echoed the flowers embroidered on her dress.

Usually, he enjoyed that scent. Now, though, it felt far too cloying, heavy in his nostrils, making it hard to breathe.

“Kiss me, Seth,” Abigail said, her voice a shy whisper at odds with the almost command of those words.

He didn’t want to.

He knew he had to.

Please, Goddess,went through his mind, but he didn’t know whether Brigid was listening. Quite possibly, this was what she wanted.

Time to get this over with.

He bent his head and touched his lips to Abigail’s.

A second passed, and another.

And…nothing.

She took a step back, disappointment clouding her too-big blue eyes, a pout touching her unnaturally rosy lips.

“You’re not the one,” she said, tone flat.

No, he wasn’t. He’d felt absolutely nothing when he kissed her…and he knew Abigail must have experienced the same thing, or she wouldn’t have said the words she’d just uttered.

“I suppose not,” he replied, even as he tried to keep relief and joy from flooding into his voice. It was never a good idea to let a woman know how happy you were that you’d turned out to be incompatible with her.

Theprima-in-waiting glanced down at her shoes, which were very smart, beige kid with slender straps and little kid-covered buttons. They weren’t something sold at the mercantile, which meant Mabel must have purchased them from a catalog, wanting something extra special for her daughter’s meeting with her future consort.

A consort that wasn’t him. He had the wildest impulse to dance a jig, and told himself if he did so, he’d only succeed in making a fool of himself…and letting his cousin know how glad he was that he wouldn’t have to marry her.

Probably not a very good idea.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

Abigail’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug he guessed was supposed to appear nonchalant but appeared more forlorn than anything else.

“I wish it could have been you,” she said. “But I know the universe doesn’t always do what we want it to. I suppose we should go tell Mama. She’ll be dreadfully disappointed.”

Yes, the McAllisters’ formidableprimawas not someone who enjoyed being thwarted. But this was the hand of fate, and even Mabel couldn’t do anything about it. They would go and tell her he wasn’t Abigail’s consort, and then he could leave.

He was free.

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