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“I will visit my family yearly, but my home is now in England.”
She heard the wistfulness in his tone, and she understood. A day had not passed that she did not reminisce on Boston, the life and friends she had left there. “And will you settle here in Norfolk?”
“For now.”
She waited for him to expound, but he remained silent. Payton hesitated to pry further, though the need to learn more about him was becoming a persistent desire. “Do you have a wife?”
Startled eyes met hers. “I would not dream of tasting you if I were attached.”
She flushed. “Of course. I did not think you without honor, I…I…merely wondered if you had any attachment, and I asked the question poorly.”
“I had an understanding once, but we agreed we would not suit.”
There was a dark undertone in his voice that had her assessing him carefully. “May I ask why?”
He grimaced. “The fault lies with me. She understandably needed more from me, and I was unable to provide it.”
She touched his arms lightly, and he froze. She quickly withdrew her fingers, a blush heating her cheeks. “Such a separation must have caused you pain. I am sorry.”
“It was years ago; if it caused pain, I have forgotten,” he said in a voice that was chillingly distant.
Awareness of how secluded they were reared its head. She strolled toward the grazing horses, and he kept pace with her, each of his steps exuding masculine grace and vitality. “Thank you for riding with me. I must return to the estate. I am to be fitted for a ball gown for Lady Blythe’s midnight soiree this weekend. My mother would lambast me if I missed the modiste the duchess has been kind enough to ask to attend our needs.”
He nodded. “Reserve a spot for me on your dance card.”
Liquid warmth slid through her veins. “You will attend?”
“Yes.”
An event she had previously dreaded now had anticipation curling through her. “I am surprised.” He arched a brow, and she winced. “Please do not think me unkind. I only know the bigotry of society and had not thought Lady Blythe would have invited you to her ball.”
“Think nothing of causing me offense; I much prefer if you speak freely. My connection with Calydon allows me much within society.”
Of course. It was the same connection her family shamelessly importuned upon. Was it that he yearned to be a part of the haute monde? A sinking sensation entered her stomach. “I see.”
“The disappointment in your tone compels me to know what it is you believe you have perceived.”
“I had the thought you might wish to be a part of the coveted inner circles of the haute monde. The idea disappointed me, when it should not have. I have no right to judge you based on my desires.”
His gaze settled on her face. “And your desire is not to be associated with high society?”
Payton hesitated. “Yes.”
The twig between his fingers snapped. “May I enquire as to what happened?”
She hesitated. “I don’t belong. Months after being introduced to society I waited for someone to look at me and see the dirt beneath my fingernails.”
She held up her hands, and he lightly encircled her wrists.
“These hands have milked a cow and dug deep into the soil. They have even scrubbed a pot and lifted a chamber pot.”
Amusement gleamed in his eyes. He pulled her fingers toward his lips and brushed the lightest of a kiss across the tips. Payton wasn’t sure if she should pull from his caress or lean farther in to him. She glanced through the trees, unable to make out the indistinct forms of the players on the lawn. But if she could see them, surely they could see a man and a woman standing much too close.
“Industrious hands are not dirty, they are to be much admired,” he murmured.
“Sentiments only few would agree with.”
“What else has contributed to your distaste of high society?”
“Many young ladies I had thought close acquaintances took pleasure in reminding me I did not belong to their social circles. I ignored my discomfort, my sister’s warnings of the hypocritical nature of society, and enjoyed each lavish ball I attended. The heir to a viscountcy pursued me most ardently and I…believed I loved him.”
Mikhail’s expression became guarded, but Payton knew he held on to her every word. There was a piercing stillness about him that unsettled her, and his grip had tightened reflexively on her fingers.
“Do you still love him?”
“I do not think so.”
His expression became even more closed, and her heart thudded.
“What happened with this man?”
She pulled her fingers from his clasp, a bit thrown by his intensity. “He proposed to me, and our engagement was announced. A rumor started circulating concerning someone close to my family, and society was very cruel in their reactions. I was tarnished by association, and Lord Jensen withdrew his affections.”
And society blamed me, hated me, and cut me for it, because it was further proof of my inferiority. The unspoken words were still too painful for her to admit.
“He was a damn fool. A mere rumor would not dissuade me from your charms.”
Pleasure suffused her at Mikhail’s assertions. “Thank you for your kind words.”
“I did not offer them out of kindness.”
Her breath hitched at the shadows of hunger in his eyes, and she swallowed at the startling throb in her lower stomach. Not good. While she liked him, her family would object. But did she care? She liked him. “I have never had anyone look at me as you do,” she said softly. “Your gaze is like a physical touch; its intensity is almost alarming.”
A fleeting smile touched his lips. “I will learn to temper my attraction.”
“I would urge you not to.” Her voice was a mere whisper, but from the flash of desire that darkened his eyes, he had heard. He leaned in, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he woul
d kiss her. Please. She wanted the press of his mouth against hers.
“Your lips have been haunting me.”
“I am sorry to have caused you misery,” she said teasingly, trying to rein in the ridiculous need to behave wantonly.
He placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer to his delicious warmth. “More like tormenting me.”
“Then I am sorry if I have caused you pain,” she whispered as she lifted her arms and clasped his shoulder. Acting on pure feminine instinct, she pressed her nose in to his neck, breathing in his evocative scent.
He froze, and a chill blasted her. A fraught silence settled around them, the undercurrents of something unknown rippling across Payton’s skin. The chill seemed to gather in strength, and she could feel him retreating, though he did not move. It scared her.
Instinctively she dropped her hands from his shoulders. Tension visibly drained from his body when she stepped away, and hurt lanced through her. “You find my touch repellent?” The idea seemed farfetched, but it was the alarming conclusion she had drawn.
Caution clouded his gaze. “No…never.”
Soft relief pulsed, and she smiled. “For a moment I—”
“I find all touch uncomfortable,” he admitted with evident discomfort.
But he seems so self-assured and arrogant…
“Oh!” She made to move away, but he gripped her hips and drew her to him. “I thought you found touching distasteful.”
“If I am the one in control it does not bother me,” he said in a deceptively mild tone, drawing her even closer, flushing her chest to his.
Oh.
“I have an incurable love for horses and dogs. I enjoy archery and boxing.”
She lifted her eyes to his, and the heat in his gaze strangled her breathing. “I…I feel as if you are about to kiss me, so for you to talk of dogs, horses, and pugilistic skills in this moment is decidedly confusing.”
His fingers tangled in her hair, and he lifted her face even closer. “You’d asked about my hobbies. What about yours?”
The anticipation of feeling his lips and tasting them for the first time was burning away all her resistance to mere ashes, and he wanted to converse?
