Page 21 of Snowed In with the Jilted Duke

"Who else is there? I cannot play Juliet, every man here is closely related to me by birth or marriage. You are the only one. And it would be most peculiar to have anyone other than your promised husband play romantic scenes with you so close to your wedding."

"But..." Pippa's objections trailed off as she realized it was true. There really was no one else who could play the roles unless they looked to the older generation, most of whom seemed reluctant to participate except in the smallest of ways. And even if one of those couples agreed, one was left with the oddity of asking people well into middle age to play lovestruck adolescents.

She looked up at Oliver, who appeared equally resigned.

"I suppose we must," Oliver said, extending his arm. "Pray do not expect us to return as Edmund Kean and Mrs. Siddons, if you please, Beatrice. We can only promise to do better than we have."

With a brisk nod, Beatrice waved them away and turned to the others who had been cast. Pippa allowed herself to be led down the corridor to the breakfast room, the sideboard and table standing empty until tomorrow's meal.

She turned to Oliver, feeling awkward in the small room.

"Is she really going to make us do this?"

"Once Beatrice makes up her mind, there is no gainsaying her. For everyone's peace, it's best to do as she wishes."

Pippa nodded and sighed. She did not know Beatrice well, but she was familiar with the young woman's stubbornness.

"At least she's not making us the stars of one of her own creations," Oliver said encouragingly. "She is constantly writing plays and tearing them up, or so my aunt tells me."

"I have never aspired to be an actress."

Oliver's lips quirked. "You are getting quite a bit of practice now, pretending to be your sister."

"Hush. We've already been overheard more than once at this party." Pippa looked around but saw no one.

"You are correct. I apologize." Oliver bowed and kissed the hand she automatically gave to him. His skin was warm against hers, slightly rough in the winter dryness. His lips lingered a moment too long, and she pulled her hand back, blushing.

How had Penny been able to resist Oliver's charm all these years? Pippa wanted nothing more but to succumb to it, and he had merely kissed her hand.

Pippa cleared her throat. "Shall we begin to read?"

Thinking about kissing Oliver was far too dangerous when they were stuck together in this tiny room.

“Since this is the balcony scene, perhaps you should be above me.”

She looked around the room. “I suppose I could stand on a chair.”

“Allow me.” He put his hands around her waist despite her gasp of surprise and set her onto the sideboard, the marble surface chilly under her bottom even through her dress. Sitting there put her at least a head above him, and he grinned up at her.

“‘But soft! What light from yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’”

Her breath caught as he stared at her for a lingering moment before reaching into his pocket for the papers folded there. “That’s all I can remember.”

Flipping through the sheets, he mumbled as he searched, but Pippa could not help but be distracted by his closeness. From this angle, she could see the different shades that made up his dark hair — not solely black, but with brown and even red mixed in as well that shimmered in the candlelight. His body heat radiated out to her, and she shivered a little in the chilly room, her own body heat warming the marble slab she sat on.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.” She could not help but shiver again under his regard, not all of it due to the cold. “I ought to have brought my shawl.”

He moved closer to her and put one arm around her waist, bringing her hip snug against his side, her arm naturally curving around his shoulder. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” she said, and turned her head to look at him.

That was a mistake.

The light in his eyes as he gazed up at her took her breath away, and she leaned closer before she realized what she was doing. His face was made up of clean-cut angles in the candlelight, the slashes of his nose and cheekbones and chin standing out sharply, contrasting with the fuller shape of his mouth.

“Pippa.” He leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from hers.