Page 48 of Just a Little Daring

“You know me too well,” he replied with a mournful sigh. “But if I do not fish, they never surface of their own accord.”

She made a muffled sound of outrage that made him smile. “Silly creature. You’ve leagues of women ready to pour the butter boat over your head. You know full well the reason you like my company is that I don’t treat you like some earthbound deity.”

“This is true, but a fellow becomes accustomed to such meaningless flattery, and so when it is entirely absent, one becomes… anxious. I am a restless fellow, truly. If I do not have constant reassurance, I fret, fearing my worth and my company do not bring you pleasure.”

She darted him a curious glance, for despite his teasing manner there had been too much truth in those words, and she’d heard it.

“I believe you are still fishing, but I shall reassure you all the same, for you are my favourite person in the world outside of my family, Louis. Surely you know that much?”

He smiled at her, wondering why such a heartfelt compliment only made his chest tight.

“As you are mine.”

They walked on in silence, the labyrinth leading them in ever decreasing circles. Evie was quiet and Louis watched her, aware something troubled her.

“Are you going to tell me what is worrying you, love?”

Her brow furrowed a little, and she pursed her lips. Louis tried not to stare, but she had a delectable mouth, a perfect cupid’s bow and a full lower lip, soft and kissable, and he was going out of his bloody mind. Here they were, alone, in a romantic setting, and he was too terrified of scaring her off and ruining everything to make a move. Putain.

They reached another dead end, and instead of turning, Louis stopped. He reached out and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Evie,” he said softly. “Unburden yourself.”

She licked her lips as she considered, and desire shafted through Louis, the need to take her in his arms so fierce it made his skin ache.

“It’s silly,” she said, looking adorably flustered. “You’ll laugh.”

Louis frowned. “I certainly will not. I would never laugh at anything that causes you a moment’s disquiet.”

Evie let go of his arm and tangled her fingers together nervously. “Well,” she said. “Last night at the ball….”

Some instinct told Louis he would not want to laugh at what came next. He might want to do murder, or to destroy something, or more likely someone, but he would not laugh.

“I went for a walk about the hotel with Mr Cooper—it was all quite proper as lots of other people were doing likewise,” she hurried on, probably sensing the change in his manner, for it was all he could do to keep his expression impassive.

Mr Cooper. Louis brought to mind the image of one of Evie’s many suitors. A pleasant enough young man, a year or two her senior. Then he imagined the pleasant fellow’s imminent demise.

“Am I to take it Mr Cooper took liberties?” Louis asked, his voice a growl, though how he’d got the words out at all he wasn’t certain.

“Oh, no. Not really,” Evie said, blithely unaware of the havoc she was wreaking with her words. “Only, we turned a corner and for a moment no one was about and so… and so he… kissed me.”

So, this was what hell felt like, Louis thought wildly. Not only had it not been him kissing Evie, now he was reduced to the position of her confidant, forced to listen to a description of the advances of some panting boy. Dieu ait pitié. Had he really been so wicked in the past that he must now be punished so severely?

“If he did not take liberties, why are you so troubled?”

Louis prayed she wanted him to murder the blackguard, for he’d take the greatest pleasure in doing so.

Evie blushed, and the picture before him was one of such sweetness, such innocence, that he knew damned well why he was being punished. He could never be worthy of her, was not a fit husband for her, but he would have her all the same. She would be his, he swore. Not through force, not with bullying or underhand tactics. He would be patient. He would wait as long as she needed him to wait. But no one and nothing on earth would stop him. No matter how long it took for her to see him, no matter what he needed to do, she would be his wife, for he needed her as no one else did. He needed her generosity, her kindness, her endless patience, her love, for he hungered for that as much as he did her voluptuous curves. He had spent too much time of late imagining losing himself in her softness, exploring her splendidly lush body and resting his head upon her magnificent breasts. He wanted her to be his with a single-minded determination he’d felt for nothing before in his life. So he would not mess this up.

“I’m not troubled, exactly,” she explained, though she sounded mortified. “Only it was so… disappointing.”

Louis let out a breath. Merci. Merci. Grâce à Dieu. Gathering his wits, Louis forced himself to speak.

“In what way was it disappointing?”

Evie frowned, staring at the ground. “Well, everyone makes such a fuss, don’t they, about kissing, I mean? Many of my friends have told me about the first time they kissed their husbands and—” She gave a despondent sigh. “Your first kiss is supposed to be memorable but… but it was just rather wet and sloppy and… and I didn’t much care for it.”

Louis’ heart ached, and he consigned the bumbling young man to the devil. He’d known he would not be her first kiss, known he must let her have her freedom, though the thought had plagued him to death, but that some thoughtless prick had just snatched it from her with no regard, no realisation of the preciousness of what he stole made him wild with fury. His fists clenched.