Page 66 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“Why did you say you weren’t for me?”

The question seemed to stun her. “You can’t be.”

“Is it really all because of him?”

“No,” she said. “It’s so much more than that. It’s just—nobody is for me. You have to understand that.”

Oliver studied her, with her luminous skin and exquisite features. He had to do this. At least once. “Are you sure? Because I’d very much like to kiss you.”

She frowned even as color bloomed on her cheeks. “We shouldn’t. It’s not—it doesn’t make any sense. You know that just as well as I do. Our connection is not—that.”

“Perhaps not,” he said, trying to hide the sting brought about by her rejection. “But if you’d like me to kiss you, then we may as well get it out of the way. When it’s all over and done with, I can return to not being for you, and you can continue to swear off men.”

She thought about it before saying, “I suppose there’s some logic to that.”

“It’s just the one kiss,” he coaxed, cupping her face in his hands. “Hmm?”

“Just the one,” she repeated, allowing him to pull her forward. He slanted his lips against hers gently, imploringly. She reached up to grasp at his shoulders, the dusty blanket falling around her waist and revealing her naked torso. In response, his hands traveled downward, skating over her bare arms before coming to rest at her waist. She was fragile beneath his hands, too fragile for one so strong. Why did she think this didn’t make sense? Nothing had ever made more sense to him. To his surprise, it was Kalila who deepened the kiss, pulling him ever closer until the electric, delectable brush of her breasts against his chest seemed to send her plummeting back to Earth. She shifted away abruptly, pulling the blanket around her with incredible speed.

Oliver stared at her, rendered almost speechless. “Kalila—”

“The rain’s stopped,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

As he watched her try to get dressed underneath the blanket, Oliver could only think one thing.

That he wanted, more than anything in the wide world, to be for Kalila Darwish.

Chapter Sixteen

A sigh of relief escaped Kalila’s lips as the landscape outside of the carriage became familiar once more. The ride had been quiet and understandably so. It didn’t take a scholar to recognize that the delectable kiss she had shared with Oliver had not had the intended effect on either of them. The air in the small space they shared crackled with tension, and she had noticed a hungry desperation flicker across his face more than once.

It was enough to make her squirm.

But now that they were in London proper, she could escape to the townhouse, and—

“Rosewood?” she asked as the carriage rolled to a stop. “Why are we at Rosewood?”

He tilted his head in apparent confusion. “We have to dissect the fish.”

Oh, right. The fish.

They had managed to track down the carp after the storm, long expired on the bank of the lake. Finding it had been a blessing, considering Kalila was quite sure she could not have handled another bout of fishing with Oliver so close by. At present, it sat in a crate next to the coachman, waiting to be dissected.

Kalila drummed her fingers against her thighs in agitation. It wasn’t as if they had discussed how to preserve the thing, and she couldn’t risk having it spoil. And there was no scenario in which she would abandon this project, no matter how badly she wished to hide from the emotions that were invading her every sense.

You can do this. Men are not allowed to interfere with science, she reminded herself.

She nodded. “Fine.”

“Good,” he said, opening the door to the carriage. He stepped down and offered her his hand.

Kalila ignored it, hearing a quiet chuckle escape him as she hopped onto the pavement in front of Rosewood. Accepting the crate from the coachman, they headed into the house. Hughes greeted them at the door, his mouth falling open at the sight of Kalila’s natural hair, which had dried into a tangled mess.

“I take it fishing was a success,” he managed.

“Indeed,” Oliver said. “Might I introduce you to Miss Kalila Darwish?”

Hughes bowed. “Miss Darwish. A pleasure.”