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‘It must really be you.’ Shaking his head, he gazed up at me with those dark eyes of his. ‘No figment of my imagination would dare to speak to me like that.’
Cautiously, I raised my free hand, and let it join the other one, enclosing his strong masculine fingers with my smaller ones.
‘I’m always real for you.’
‘More than just real. You’re always you.’
‘Glad to be of service, Sir.’
Raising his free hand, he crooked one finger. ‘Come here.’
‘For what?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you want to initiate a bit more superfluous physical contact?’
‘Miss Linton?
My eyebrow rose even higher. ‘What, not “Mr Linton?” I thought I would have to pretend to be a man while I work for you. I thought it would cause too big a scandal, otherwise.’
‘Miss Linton? Close your mouth and come here. Now.’
‘Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!’
The springs of the mattress creaked as I sank down on it. All of a sudden, Mr Ambrose’s face was very close, the planes of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones standing out sharply, his dark eyes like the sea itself. I felt something squeeze my heart, almost painfully.
‘When I stepped on land, I thought I was safe from drowning,’ I rasped. ‘But when I look into your eyes, I’m not sure anymore.’
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally - the closest he ever came to looking confused. ‘Is that supposed to make sense?’
‘Not really. It’s supposed to make you feel something.’
‘Ah.’ He gave a curt nod, and gently squeezed my hand. ‘You will be pleased to hear, then, that the method seems to be effective.’
There was silence again. We looked at each other, I at him as if I had found everything I wanted, he at me as if he were lost. Lost in me.
Or… maybe just lost.
‘You’re supposed to say something, too, you know,’ I pointed out, just managing to keep from smiling.
‘Something like what?’
‘Maybe something about what you feel.’
If I thought his eyes had been boring into me powerfully before, I was mistaken. It was nothing to what they now did, capturing me, holding me prisoner, drawing me closer.
‘I would have thought that required no words. Is it not obvious?’
‘Maybe. But I would like you to tell me anyway.’
‘A waste of breath and time!’
‘Yes. But a wonderful one. Please?’ Cocking my head, I raised his hand to my lips again, not kissing this time, just skimming over the tops of his knuckles. ‘Please, Sir?’
I heard his breath hitch, and saw the muscles in his jaw tighten.
‘What,’ he asked, his voice raw as a split iceberg, ‘if I don’t have the words? There are no words for how I feel right now. None that I know.’
Bloody hell.
I closed my eyes, letting joy flood through me. ‘Those,’ I told him, ‘those were exactly the right ones.’
