Page 18 of The Lord's Icy Temptress
“You are being far too modest!” Tristan added easily. It was refreshing to see her so disarmed. It made it all the easier to speak with her.
Lady Seraphina shook her head once more, though the corners of her lips were tilted up slightly. “Hardly. I have not done anything extraordinary here.”
Tristan moved closer, daring to look more closely at the painting still drying in the sunlight. Up close, she was even more breathtaking. The words on his tongue in answer died as he gazed longingly into her eyes — even more captivating in the sunlight.
Lady Seraphina glanced down at the book in his hands curiously. “What do you have there?”
It was what he needed to snap back to reality. He pulled the book out from under his arm and held it to her — it felt terribly unceremonious to just thrust it at her now. “A gift. I had planned a touch of fanfare, but now …” Tristan laughed awkwardly as he held out the book for her inspection.
Lady Seraphina gasped as she ran her paint-flecked fingers over the book cover reverently. “But where did you find it?!”
There it was — a rare smile as she flipped open the book and started to thumb through the pages. “I have searched for a copy of this book everywhere, but it is so very hard to find a copy anywhere! Do you truly mean to lend this to me? It is too much!” She paused, seeming to remember herself and reining in her excitement. “I mean, thank you, My Lord. This is very generous.”
“If it means that much to you, it is yours. Very well worth it to see such a smile.”
“Again with the flattery Lord Ashford?” Lady Seraphina asked without ever looking away from the book she was admiring. After another moment, she clutched her prize to her chest happily, faint flecks and all.
“Is it flattery if I am merely stating an obvious fact?” Tristan teased with a smirk. He was getting closer to getting her to drop those high walls she liked to hide behind; he could feel it. “Though, I confess that I was a little wary of the genre of the book. I was unsure if you enjoyed a good mystery.”
“Well, in truth, I—” Lady Seraphina’s words were cut short by a sudden gust of wind that gusted through the open space of the veranda violently. Book clutched in one hand, Lady Seraphina went to stabilize her painting to keep it from toppling over into the ground, but that did nothing to save the leather-bound portfolio of sketches and drawings that had been resting on the table with all of her paints. She gasped softly and tried her best to reach for both as the strong gust of wind lifted the sketches and spiralled them through the air.
Tristan moved to catch one, plucking the paper out of the air as he then jogged across the open space to try to catch them as best as he could. Lady Seraphina joined him moments later, reaching for the same piece of paper off the ground as he did — her bare hand closing over the top of his own.
His eyes lifted to hers, only to find that she was far closer to him than he had anticipated. He could smell the sweetness of her perfume and the lingering smell of paint that decorated her. Sparks tingled up his fingers from every place that she touched.
For a moment, she seemed to soften, if only a little. There were no lines of tension on her face as she smiled softly at him, a warmth in her expression as she slipped her fingers through his own to extract the drawing she had been reaching for. He could not help himself— he was drawn to her by a force that he could not understand and did not dare to question. He did not wish to question it. He could feel her warm breath against his lips — so close that if only the moment between them lasted a little longer, he might have kissed her.
Just as quickly as the moment had come, it ended.
For a moment, they were frozen in place — he could have sworn that he heard her heart thundering just as loudly as his own as the wind curled around them. Even Mother Nature seemed to wish to push them closer to one another.
Lady Seraphina pulled her hand from his and clutched her sketch to her chest. When she spoke, it was the same calm, collected tone she had used in their prior conversations. He could see that the walls she had started to let slip were now firmly back in place. “Thank you, Lord Ashford, for your assistance.”
A dusting of pretty pink coloured the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. Just enough that it sorely tempted him to push the envelope and see just how much further he could press the subject. He wanted to kiss her — but the moment was over.
Tristan had to hope against hope that he would get another chance.
Chapter 13
Amid the opulence of Lady Diana’s grand dinner, Seraphina gracefully glided across the ballroom, her presence commanding the attention of all in attendance. Her raven-black hair was elegantly styled, and the soft glow of candlelight reflected in her piercing blue eyes, creating an aura of regal allure.
The Earl and Countess of Emberdale, her parents, walked proudly at her side, basking in the admiration their daughter elicited from the distinguished guests. But, her mind was only occupied with thoughts of one man and one man alone. She could not get their afternoon together out of her mind. He had left shortly after the encounter with the sketches, stating he had some important business to attend to, but the truth was there had been a moment between them, and she had bungled it.
As per usual, Seraphina had allowed her thoughts to get the better of her. They ran rampant and untamed in her mind, whispering only the worst-case scenario of every event that could possibly happen. She ought to have apologized, or at least she should have tried even harder to keep herself from acting so awkwardly around him. He did seem to have pure intentions.
Mostly.
If he had kissed her … she thought she might have allowed it.
Over and over again, she had replayed those fleeting moments in her mind’s eye and pictured all the ways it could have gone. It would have been even better than she had dreamt it, for she had no experience to draw from, and Lord Ashford was a living, breathing person. Unlike the version of him that existed in her dreams, he could touch her.
Her eyes seemed drawn to him, standing with his friends and dominating whatever conversation the small grouping of men seemed to be having. Lord Ashford smiled easily, lighting up the space around him in a way that made her heart flutter. She found herself mesmerized by his ability to easily navigate the intricacies of high society while maintaining a sense of authenticity she rarely encountered.
She wanted to tell him what she thought about the book he had brought her. She had stayed up for far too many hours the previous night, burning her candle low so that she could devour it. There was no reason for her to stray from the status quo and strike up a conversation with him. It would ruin the whole ‘aloof’ image that she had so carefully cultivated, but despite her best efforts, she found herself gravitating towards where he stood.
Lord Ashford’s gaze lifted, locking with hers from across the room and she felt her mouth go dry as he transfixed her. What was this feeling? She had never been so frozen by such a simple glance before! She did not know how to proceed. It was uncharted territory. If Elizabeth were standing right next to her here, no doubt her friend would push her towards him, hoping to start another conversation, but she was not so bold.
Lord Ashford seemed to excuse himself from the conversation he was in the middle of, patting the back of the man nearest to him in a friendly gesture as he worked away from the group, seeming to be intent on coming to speak with her. Her stomach tightened. The smart thing would be to go away, to further discourage any more contact or conversation … but she wished to speak with him.
