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Tillie and Juliet came rushing back down the path, Tillie in the lead. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she answered weakly, her cheeks heating all over again.
She shouldn’t have taken the rose and she certainly shouldn’t enjoy the way he was touching her to remove the thorn.
“Almost got it,” Rangeley answered, finally looking up at her and giving her a wink.
His features were relaxed, his gaze arresting, and she found herself wishing she might touch his cheek. Run her fingers over his skin. It looked rougher, a bit darker than hers, but that only added to his appeal.
Her throat grew tight as she looked back at her sister and then down at him again. His gaze held hers so that she was unable to look away, unable to move really. Except for a single hand which fluttered down and then rested on his shoulder.
His muscles flexed under her fingers, the strength of them making her legs wobble as she held in her breath.
“Millie,” Tillie said, stopping. “What’s happened?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, air leaving her lungs in a rush. “I just caught a thorn on my dress.”
Tillie’s eyes narrowed as Lord Rangeley finally removed the pesky point from the thin fabric.
Juliet cleared her throat. “I’m sure one flower doesn’t matter but you ought not to pick the stems. Insects rely on them…”
Millie didn’t listen to any more as Lord Rangeley’s smile turned conspiratorial. They’d known this lecture was coming.
But the curve of his mouth was so devilishly delightful, so sinfully glorious, that Millie knew she was in grave peril.
He stood finally, the offending bloom in his hand. “Quite right, Lady Juliet. I shall never pick another flower for as long as I live.”
And he gave a bow, his hand twirling circles in a dramatic fashion so different from the man who’d spoke of farming moments ago. That man had been serious, full of purpose.
Juliet harrumphed. “There’s no need to make such declarations.”
But Tillie had been silent through the entire interaction. She stepped up closer to Lord Rangeley, her chin tilting up to look at him as her arms crossed over her chest. “Lord Rangeley, walk with me.”
Millie lifted her brows as Rangeley gave a stiff nod, the lighthearted playfulness disappearing from his face once again.
Was Tillie angry at Lord Rangeley? Was she angry at Millie? Did Tillie know the effect that Lord Rangeley was having on her younger sister?
She nipped at her lip. She knew she wasn’t as wise or as savvy as Tillie, but she was trying. Her gaze swept over Lord Rangeley and her breath caught again, blood rushing in her ears.
Trying and failing.
