Page 44 of Married By Twelfth Night
But this was Grace. His sister’s friend. The woman who annoyed him to no end. And he was kissing her and forgetting every reason he shouldn’t.
Belside. He forced the word into his mind. Belside. He had to think of Belside.
With all the willpower he could muster, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving.
She drew her own breath, her cheeks red, and her eyes glazed over. Her smile unfolded slowly like the petals of a flower.
Heavens, she was beautiful.
Grace. Was beautiful.
And she felt like heaven in his arms.
He was going to kill his sister.
Releasing Grace took effort, but he stepped back. He’d gone too far. Kissed her for too long. He turned. “Bridget, I . . .” But Bridgetwas nowhere in sight and neither was Ruth. The front door was ajar, sending a swirl of cold through its narrow gap, but he felt none of it. The warmth Grace had gifted him still clung to him like the softest blanket he’d ever touched.
He looked back at Grace, who ducked her head shyly. Did . . . did she care for him as much as he had come to care for her?
He swallowed, aching to pull her to him again.
They would never be able to return from this.
Not ever.
Chapter 18
Grace struggled to payattention to the Christmas Day sermon. The chapel overflowed with attendants coming to worship for the holiday, and it was the people who provided the greatest distraction to her. Mr. Craig, dressed in a very fine olive dress jacket, sat behind her with his sister, and she could feel his admiring stare on the back of her head. From what she had heard from her mother about his situation, he was from an upstanding family with ideal connections. He was not only available, but interested. And even more remarkable, she hadn’t scared him off yet.
If she was smart, she would consider him.
But her wisdom had been commandeered by a fantasy that had begun yesterday afternoon after one remarkable mistletoe kiss. Admittedly, ithadbeen her first kiss, so she had naught to compare it with, but shouldn’t there have been charts in the Farmers’ Almanac discussing the very complicated emotions produced while kissing under mistletoe? At the very least, the astrology section should have discussed how the very heavens seemed to have held their breath.
No wonder some thought it a heathen plant.
Although, she was quite certain such a light feeling was as divine as any. Even with such a conclusion, she had yet to decide if that feeling was meant to remain or act as a tormenting dream. Thinkingof Richard had always been tormenting, so why should this be any different?
But it wasn’t just his kiss. It had been him. The only thing separating her heart from his all these years was her utter conviction of the state of his character. Yesterday, he had proved her completely wrong. First with Miss Coleridge and then with his tenants. He had dipped his head humbly when they had spoken of their gratitude for all he had done for them.
Richard had thoroughly surprised her.
Her thoughts skipped down the bench past her sister, brother, and parents and crossed the aisle. Trailing up one bench more on the opposite side of them sat Richard and Bridget. Her eyes settled on Richard’s handsome profile, her thoughts arresting on the subject of her desire. She could almost feel his jaw beneath her hands.
Some memories were unforgettable.
Kissing Richard Graham would always be one of them.
Richard turned at that moment and met her gaze head on. Her cheeks flooded with warmth, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. The smallest smile touched his lips and the way his almond eyes lifted upward at the corners gave her an unspoken answer to a question that had nagged at her all night and morning.
Had he regretted their kiss?
Nothing in his posture or expression gave her that impression. His smile continued to pull up on one side, and he nodded toward the vicar as if to say he was going to pay attention and she should as well.
He turned his head forward, breaking their silent connection. It was as if their roles had reversed. She would have scolded him in the past if he’d been distracted at church, and now he was the one paying attention and prompting her to do the same. He had grown up, while her mind was a child’s toy ship without navigation.
Ruth elbowed her. “Stop staring or you’ll be the subject of gossip at everyone’s dinner table tonight.”
Her head shifted forward. She did not want to add any more gossip than what would happen naturally when Richard proposed marriage to Ruth. Which he should have already done by now. His time was running out. But did he still care for Ruth? Because she suddenly wanted him to care for her . . .
