Page 36 of The Gentleman's Confession
His eyes did the opposite, widening. “Jemma—”
“I mean it. Close your eyes.”
She was so intent upon it, he had to obey. For a moment, he forgot about Alan sitting quietly beside him, about Lisette and her hold on his future, and even Mr. Bentley. His eyes closed, and he held perfectly still, though his heart raced, and his next breath stuck inside him.
Nothing happened at first. He heard a rustle and felt her arm brush his. A waft of rose water reached him, the scent nearly undoing him. A small splash sounded, and he briefly wondered if it was the fishing rod.
“You can open them now.”
He did, curious and confused. She pointed past her skirts pulled up almost to her knees and toward her feet, now submerged in the water. Her half boots and stockings lay neglected beside her, and her mouth was pulled into a sheepish grin. “I did not want you scolding me about propriety again, but I couldn’t help myself.”
If only he were half as tempting as the water.
He smirked at his own foolishness. No kiss. No mystery revealed. He didn’t wait for her to close her eyes but pulled off his own boots, shoving his toes into the frigid water. He sucked in his breath. “It’s freezing!”
Alan giggled beside him, and Miles gave him a wink.
“I was going to warn you,” Jemma said, “but you seemed determined.”
“I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
“Speaking of fun, might you have been having a little too much of it?”
He scratched his head, ruffling his obnoxious curls. “Vicars can’t put their feet in water? Do my hairy toes offend you?”
“Are they hairy?” Jemma bent over to see.
He laughed. “Just tell me, Jemma: What am I doing wrong this time?”
“It’s Lisette.” She seemed to force the name from her mouth and kept her eyes on the water. “You haven’t worked very hard to build a relationship with her.”
Lisette again? How could she be so blind? Maybe it was Mr. Bentley’s presence in town. Maybe it was these dashed romantic lessons. Maybe it was the nearness of Jemma and the ache for one more carefree day. Maybe it was his resolution to finally show her he was not just a vicar. Whatever it was, he blurted the words: “I love Lisette.”
Her whole posture went rigid. “You ... you do?”
“As afriend.”
She blinked once. Twice. A dozen times. “I, uh, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
He sank his head into his hands and groaned.
“Miles Jackson!” Jemma’s voice grew more flustered. “What are you saying?”
“Jemma, it was never meant to get so out of hand.”
“Stop.” She pulled her feet from the water and drew herself into standing position. “If you have grown apart, it is all your fault. You’ve neglected her, and it is high time you take your own advice.”
Miles copied her, jumping to his feet. “It’s not a matter of effort.”
“What effort? I haven’t seen much for years.”
Her temper was flaring, and she wouldn’t see reason until she calmed down, but he couldn’t wait. This was his chance to explain himself and rid her of her ridiculous dream—thisobsession—she had of him and Lisette marrying. “It’s not what you think. Let me explain. I cannot marry Lisette.”
Her eyes narrowed to two angry slits, and he almost missed her hands fly to his chest. In a reflex, he grabbed them. “Were you going to push me in?”
“No, but if it shocks some sense into you, I will gladly do it. You cannot make a woman believe you love her, then change your mind.”
“Who said I changed my mind?”
