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She closed her eyes and moaned.
The urge to kiss her crept up on him again.
Well, it had never left him.
Nor did it merely creep up on him but struck him like a battering ram.
“I am sure you are relieved we are not really betrothed.” She was obviously mortified by her clumsiness. But he knew she was not clumsy so much as innocent about men and struggling with these new sensations of yearning and desire.
These were so new to her that she had not yet learned how to hide them.
He liked this about her very much.
When she fell in love, that fortunate man would know it to the depths of his soul.
He dared not consider he could be that man.
No, her family would never allow it. Being a brash urchin might be cute and adorable, but he was a grown man now and used to dealing with ruffians, at times being one himself. He was not a suitable husband for an earl’s daughter.
That he came across as cultured was her uncle’s good influence. In truth, he was a better man for having met Peter Croft and been guided by him while growing up in Torquay. However, although his outer edges were polished, the man he was inside was not.
This did not stop his heart from shooting into spasms over Aurora.
Despite all those hard edges and barriers built around his heart, despite his experience with women and skills at seduction, he knew he was the one in greatest danger of falling in love.
Was there ever a more perfect angel created than Aurora?
He tore his gaze away and released her once she was steady on her feet. They stood together while one of the staff wiped away the spilled ice. “I am so sorry,” Aurora told the young woman.
“Ye needn’t worry, m’lady,” the amiable girl responded. “A good boiling will get that stain out. Happens all the time.”
As soon as the girl had finished, Perin righted the chair and held it out for Aurora. She apologized to him as well. Her cheeks bore pink stains to mark her embarrassment as she sank into her seat.
He returned to his own, fully aware of everyone’s stares.
“Perin,” Aurora’s mother said, “we are having our traditional Christmas celebration Friday next. Please join us. Even my hairy husband will be glad to see you.”
He laughed and shook his head. “How can I refuse such an invitation?”
Aurora had been staring at her lap but suddenly looked up and regarded him wide-eyed. “Mr. Marsh, truly? You will accept?”
“Yes, Lady Aurora.” After a moment, he rose and bowed to the ladies. “It has been a pleasure.”
He settled their account, told the proprietress to send any additional charges to him, then grabbed his coat and walked out into the softly falling snow.
The bracing chill did not cool him in the least, and he knew spending more time around Aurora would be playing with fire.
Logic and reason suggested he ought to send a note to politely convey his regrets and not attend the Westcliff holiday party. But he could be neither reasonable nor logical when it came to Aurora.
What was he to do?
He would give it some thought.
He did not want Aurora burned by their acquaintance, for no matter how deeply he wished it, he knew it could never turn into something more serious. This invitation to tea had been a polite gesture done as a kindness to him at the urging of Lady Westcliff’s brother, no doubt.
It meant nothing more.
As for him?
It was too late to protect his heart.
Perhaps it had been too late for him from the first mention of Aurora’s name eighteen years ago.
Aurora.
She had scorched him even back then.
What was he going to do about her now?
