Page 49 of To Bed the Bride
This association was different, less noble, and perhaps more earthy. She wanted him to touch her bare skin, to follow through with all the sensations his kiss promised. She wanted to know what lovemaking was like when her senses were involved as well as her mind. When he tempted her and challenged her and made her laugh.
The world would not understand why she stood there, one hand still on his arm, the other clutching the fabric of her skirt. Nor would society comprehend how difficult it was to take another step away from him, letting her hand fall. Glancing down at Bruce, she made a show of ensuring that his lead was in place. Would Logan see that her hands trembled?
She couldn’t think of a word to say to excuse her behavior. Perhaps it would be wiser to accuse him, to excoriate him for his actions. After all, he was the one who had initiated the kiss. She hadn’t stepped away, however. Nor had she run away as she had in Scotland. Even now, she wanted to kiss him again.
If the world knew her thoughts, she’d be chastised and shamed. Thankfully, no one would ever know.
All she had to do now was turn and walk away, encouraging Bruce to stay at her side. That’s all. All she had to do was lift her foot and put it down a few inches away, and begin her departure.
She wanted to remain with him, and wasn’t that a telling confession? She wanted to ask him about his childhood, about his thoughts for the future. She wanted to know about his sister and her children, how he came to know Old Ned. What he had learned about sheep, about Parliament. What were his greatest wishes? What did he want to achieve as a member of Parliament? Who did he emulate? Who was his mentor? A variety of questions espousing a curiosity that she’d never felt before for any man.
Everything about him interested her.
She finally managed to turn and walk a few steps away. He didn’t say anything when she stopped, her back to him. She was a fool to expect him to urge her to stay.
They had both acted irrationally and despite their better selves. She glanced at him over her shoulder to find that he was watching her.
“I...” Her words ground to a halt. What did she say to him? How could she possibly explain herself? He was too entrancing, too interesting, too compelling. She should never be alone with him again. Nor should she ever have another thing to do with him.
“I have meetings tomorrow,” he said in that voice she already loved so well. “But I’ll be here the day after.”
Now she should tell him that he was wiser earlier when he said he was going to avoid her. She should remind him of that statement and tell him that it was the safest and best course. Instead, all she did was nod just once before turning back.
Heading for the gate was the hardest thing she’d done in a very long time.
Chapter Nineteen
The day Logan was due back at the park, Eleanor took extra care with her appearance. She wore one of her newer dresses, a rich dark green that reminded her of spring in Scotland. Unfortunately, due to the weather, she had to cover it up with her plain black cloak, but the hem peeped out. If the wind wasn’t so forceful in the park she’d unbutton it to reveal the dress.
In addition, she asked Barbara for help with her hair. If the woman thought it was odd that Eleanor needed her services midmorning, perhaps she would believe that Eleanor was preparing herself for the life of a countess, to be as attractive as possible at every moment of every day.
An hour later she left the house with Bruce on his new leather lead. This one was longer to accommodate his training. In the last day and a half she’d also practiced whistling not only when she’d taken Bruce to Queen’s Park, but also in the privacy of her bedchamber. No one knocked on the door to ask what that odd sound was, so evidently the original builders of the house had made the walls thick enough that she wasn’t overheard.
Once through the wrought iron gate she found herself walking rapidly, then made herself slow down. It wouldn’t do to look too eager.
She’d gone most of her life without knowing Logan. What did it matter that she hadn’t seen him for a day and a half? Someone didn’t come into your life that quickly and make themselves indispensable. Yet it was as if a spot that hadn’t been there before had suddenly appeared and he’d slipped into it easily. So easily that when he wasn’t there the space felt like an enormous cavern.
She wanted to hear his voice again. She wanted to know about his day. What kind of meetings had taken his time? Perhaps he wouldn’t tell her, considering it confidential knowledge that she had no right to know.
No doubt he was such a source of fascination for her because he was unabashedly Scottish. Or because he reminded her of Hearthmere. Or simply because he’d expressed an interest in her.
The proper thing to do would be to tell him that she couldn’t see him again. Kissing him had been wrong, even though she hadn’t been able to forget either of his kisses.
She was engaged to be married.
Today she would tell Logan that he’d been wiser than she in wanting to forget her. She would tell him that it would be wrong for him to come to Queen’s Park again. Both of them needed to remember the proprieties. They’d already crossed the boundary, but they could retreat behind it once more.
Don’t come here again. Forget me. I won’t meet you.Such easy sentences and all she had to do was say one of them. Say it and ignore the sadness when she did.
They walked some distance to the bench where she and Logan had sat.
He wasn’t there and the first thing she felt was disappointment. The second emotion was a sense of relief. She wouldn’t have to say anything to him. He’d already decided that it would be better not to appear.
How odd that the hurt felt like a living thing now, pushing against her chest. She felt like crying, except that she never cried in public.
Instead, she would fall back on her behavior of the past five years. She would bury everything and hide her emotions from everyone. She’d be silent and well behaved, mute and not betraying, by word or action, anything she felt.
Bruce grabbed a twig from somewhere and was happily gnawing on it.
