Page 30 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“What do you think of him?” he whispered, with their faces strangely close together on that bench.
Orla knew she should move back. There were so many reasons why she should indeed move away, not to mention the way he had looked back at her during dinner. Apparently, they had both found it difficult to look away from each other.
“Did you not see him?” she asked with a sudden sigh as she purposefully sat back and increased the distance between them. “He is away with the fairies. Did you not see how he was withMiss Grace Bonneville? Aye, because every woman wishes to be flattered by such excesses, as if they are an angel fallen from the clouds above, or that they walk on gold, do they not?” Her thick irony made him crack a smile.
“Would you not like that?”
“No indeed!”
“In my experience, ladies used to like it.” He laughed, though the sound faded fast, and he shifted in his seat.
Something unsaid hovered in the air between them. Orla bit the inside of her mouth, thinking about what he used to be like with women. Was he not embarrassed when he hardened around a woman in the past? Had they met when he was well, would he have tried to seduce her?
“And what do you think I would wish to hear, my lord?” Orla said, teasing him. He slowly looked toward her, that same smile playing on his lips.
“Orla, you do not wish to hear what I would have said to you many years ago.”
She blinked, feeling an intensity hanging in the air around them. Then he looked away, and the tension was gone, almost as quickly as it had appeared. She shifted in her seat, longing tohave it back. An image plagued her, one where she was exploring herself again, thinking of what the baron would do to her if he was exploring her in such a way.
“I think…” she stumbled, struggling with her words. “I think you have more color now. Perhaps it’s best we take you inside.” She reached for his arm, trying not to think of the muscles that tensed beneath the sleeve of the tailcoat as she touched him.
He nodded once, accepting her aid again.
She helped him to stand and slowly, they started walking back toward the house. The wind picked up, brushing against them both and making Orla’s hair dance beside her.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered.
“A little better. I do not know what brought it on.”
“Overexertion,” she murmured. “Aye, you dope,” she said playfully, softening the word. “Perhaps the wine and pushing yourself to be such a welcoming host was a little too far tonight.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he said with sudden firmness. “It should come as easy as breathing. It once did.”
She looked at him, marking the side of his face and the firm set of his lips, wondering once more what it would have been like to see the baron in his glory days, when indeed such things were as easy as breathing. He didn’t look where he was going in his frustration. That, or he was too dizzy to notice that the paving cracked before him.
The toe of his shoe caught the edge of the paving slab, and his body veered forward.
“No!” Orla caught him quickly. Her hand moved from his arm to sliding across his back and waist as the other caught the center of his chest. One of his arms ended up around her waist too as they stumbled together, in danger of falling flat on the bushes beside them. Suddenly, they found their balance.
Both of them fell still, breathing heavily as they stared at one another. Orla lifted her eyes from his chest to look at his face. They were standing far closer than was appropriate, even for a healer and her patient. He was not just looking at her eyes, but repeatedly down at her lips.
We could kiss…
Orla didn’t pull away. Her whole body wanted it, desired it. Her stomach clenched with excitement at the thought and her hands trembled.
“Thank you,” he murmured, bending his head an inch forward.
He inhaled, and she wondered if he was smelling her hair. She turned her chin up a little more, now certain he was about to take it, and that all propriety was going to be abandoned for the taste of a forbidden kiss.
“I would have fallen flat if it wasn’t for you,” he said, and slowly, his arm loosened from her waist.
She was the one to stagger this time, wrongfooted. She composed herself quickly, her cheeks burning red in embarrassment. She bit her lip, hoping to stop the wild thoughts that now overtook her, of the two of them kissing as they fell back into the bushes behind them, hands pulling at one another, exploring madly.
“I will head back to the dining room first.”
“My Lord, are you well enough?”
“I will do it.” He nodded firmly as he turned away. “You have now taught me how to try to control my sickness. With that exercise, and no more wine,” he promised her, a small smile on his lips to show he had noticed her silent instructions across the dining table, “perhaps I can last an hour or so more. Take your time before you return, Miss Byrne.”
