“Think? You mean about Wilford?” At her nod, irritation began in his gut. He didn’t want to talk about Wilford. “He’s not for you.”
“My mother thinks so. Since I prefer books to dancing and quiet to debate, she believes we would fit well.”
He took a step forward then stopped, fisting his hands to resist moving any more. “No. You are far too alive for him.”
She clasped her hands before her. “Alive? That is an odd description. Are we not all alive?”
“Yes, but while some recede from the activity of life like Wilford, others embrace it.”
“Like you.”
He unclenched his fist and gestured toward her. “And you.”
Again, her eyes widened. “You think us alike in temperament?”
“I do.” Could she not see it?
She shook her head. “No. Though I don’t recede from life, as you stated, I prefer the fringes, to enjoy others living theirs.”
“That is not what I’ve observed.”
“I’m different with you. I don’t know why. I feel more comfortable talking to you than even my classmates.”
There it was, the reason he felt the same, as if he could tell her anything. As much as he wished to deny it, there was something, a connection, between them. He had to break it. “Perhaps it was my kisses that swayed you.” He hoped she’d stiffen and back away from his crass reminder.
Sophie—no, Rosalind—lifted two fingers to her lips, lightly touching them. “I liked your kisses.” She dropped her hand. “Do all men’s kisses feel the same?”
“No.” He took another step forward, then swore under his breath. He was too close. Three more steps and she’d be in his arms, where,right now, he wanted her more than breathing. “No, every man and woman is different. Have you not been kissed before?”
“Of course not. No one notices me, and I like it that way.”
Now she was back to being Sophie, but he just wanted her all the more. He would not take another step. “I noticed you.”
She shook her head, looking away. “No. You thought I was someone else.”
Not sure if he was more frustrated with her or himself, he snorted. “Perhaps at first, but when I found you again, I had to knowyou.”
Her gaze came up to meet his once more. “I don’t know whether to thank fate or curse her.”
He laughed quietly, not anxious to have a servant find them thus. “I feel the same. See, we have much in common.”
“I concede the point. Now, I should return to my room.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped for, but her leaving was not it. That she was stronger at resisting their attraction to each other did not sit well with him, yet he still couldn’t seem to simply say goodnight. “Are you tired?”
“No. I find myself exceptionally awake.”
“As am I.”
She looked down at the book. “Is that why you were reading?”
He didn’t want to talk about the book. He didn’t want to talk about Lord Wilford. He didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted to kiss her. “I want to kiss you.” Even as the words came out, he wished them back.
“I want to kiss you, too. However, we both know that would lead to more.”
How did a virgin know what was more? Was it the biology studies of the first year that had her thinking she understood it all? Maybe if he scared her away, she would leave despite what he wished for. “And what would a kiss lead to?”
Even in the lantern light, he could see the blush that stole into hercheeks. “It would lead to seduction.”
