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Her attention returned to the furball in her hand. It began exploring her lap and skirts, sniffing and kneading, a purr coming from it. The teeny head came up, and its blue eyes found him, curious and innocent. It restarted padding on Otilia’s lap, pushing her book to the grass.
Without hesitation, she put the fluffy thing in his hands and bent to pick the book before he had the chance to do it for her.
The sudden warmth of the small body in his hands endeared the kitten to him at once. His long fingers caressed the bony body careful not to hurt it. Delighted mewls sounded in the garden. One of her hands entered his line of vision when it approached to stroke the tiny kitten, too.
Their eyes met with no animosity for the first time in years. A novelty for Edmund. Another energy vibrated between them as it crept surreptitiously inside him. He had no name for it, and could not care less.
Coal and brown-sugar heads nearly collided when they shortened the distance to look after the kitten. Orange-blossom floated to his nostrils together with the warmness of her skin as the sun shone on her coiled, glossy hair. Suddenly, he had this crazy wish to see those tresses falling free down her gracious shoulders. Realising the closeness, she resumed the distance which Edmund lamented.
“I would like to apologise for my grumpiness the other day.” Where it came from he had no idea. But it must have been the right thing to say because a faint grin came his way.
“Accepted.” The simple word filled him with something close to light-heartedness. He did not remember having ever felt like this in his life. “We need to feed this little dear before it collapses of hunger.”
“True enough,” he replied. “I will wash it while you ask cook for some food.”
They promenaded side by side to the kitchens as the little furball tried to climb all over his coat. From his shoulder, the naughty thing jumped to her arms, startling her.
“Oops.” He turned to her to prevent the kitten from falling while at the same time he did not want it to hurt Otilia. Their hands collided while trying to hold the kitten, causing a wave of shock in him. She caught the furball, and he had no choice but to retreat his hand.
They stood face to face, so close the kitten could almost have its front paws on her and its rear ones on him. His gaze lowered to her as hers lifted to his. He dived in her honey depths and got lost in the beauty of them, of her. His breath disappeared somewhere, probably south, when she moistened her beguiling lips. Without thinking, his knuckles raised to graze her petal cheek, the contact ravishing him from inside out. Her lashes fluttered shut as a small sigh escaped her lips. He wanted to kiss this woman, touch every single inch of her delicate skin, make her his unquestionably.
His head lowered to do precisely that, but the kitten interrupted him with a hungry meow. The distraction dispelled the atmosphere as she held the small thing to walk into the house. And he followed, disappointed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Otilia sat in the drawing room after dinner, trying to concentrate on her embroidery while Coal rolled like a pom-pom on her lap. She would not confide even to herself that she named the kitten after the Earl’s sleek hair.
She was grateful for the night in as she expected him to go to his club or wherever he used to spend his evenings. Or seek his pleasures.
Wherever it might be, she did not want to think about that.
Not now. Not ever.
The door-knob clicked before she snapped her attention there. Well, Edmund had gone to none of those places after all. His impressive frame stepped into the room in a white shirt and neckcloth, black breeches and boots.
Her heart somersaulted when her eyes clashed with his, fringed in sooty lashes. They inspected her simple, light-pink dress, grey wrap, and the fluffy ball on her lap. Goosebumps strayed over every inch of her skin. This proximity with him did nothing for a peaceful existence. It thrummed in her minute after minute and travelled to the most hidden corners of her mind, emotions and other unmentionable parts.
“The Linton Ball is tomorrow,” he said as he prowled further into the room, the candles providing a bluish tint on his hair.
She did not look forward to going at all. Balls had been the worst occasions where the slurs and the innuendos fired at her made her angry and hurt. “Fine,” she answered because he would give her no choice, anyway.
“I am thrilled by your enthusiasm.” A smirk stretched those sculpted lips.
“I am even more thrilled by the say I have in the matter.” As she noted the smirk and the tone, she lowered her gaze to her embroidery, lest her eyes got addicted to the view of his male gorgeousness.
“And well you should. There are many a miss who would have given everything for a chance at a season.” He gave a few steps in her direction, halting less than three feet from the armchair where she sat, hands on his hips, braced legs.
Otilia’s head lifted to the domineering height of him. An unbidden image raided her mind of him nearing more, and of her raising her hand to graze her nails lightly over his shirt from his chest to his flat abdomen to discover what came next. Uncover what came next. Explore it. Scalding heat bloomed on her face, and air arrested in her lungs as her eyes felt too huge. Never in her life did she have such wanton fantasies.
His inspection took her in from her coiled hair, down her open lips, detaining at her full bosom. It went back to her eyes with a glint that spoke of his response to her, which made that nameless spot in her middle ache.
Forcing herself to sit back, she stroked Coal with distracted fingers, a movement his attention did not miss. “I had seasons before this,” she pushed out of her dry throat. Her expression schooled to something minimally cool before she looked at him again.
“Hm,” Edmund emitted in that deep voice of his.
He turned his back to her, raking a hand through his midnight hair, and audibly expelling air through his nostrils. A gesture so out of tune with his impassive stance from seconds ago she failed to not take in his long, solid legs and firm buttocks. Her nails itched to graze there, too.
When he turned to her anew, he had resumed his impassiveness. “Your little guest seems to have adapted quite fast.” The comment came with him point
