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Chapter Four
His sober promise made Bella smile. “It’s nothing so dramatic.”
“Then tell me.”
She pursed her lips, still unsure of him. “Never mind.”
“Ach, lovely Bella. Don’t be a tease. You’ve got my imagination running amok.”
“I love it that you know what that word means.”
“Are you calling me a nerd?”
“I would if I didn’t think you would take it as a compliment.”
“Touché, lass. You know me well already.”
They were flirting. She knew it, and she could see by the warm intimate look in his eyes that he knew it as well. It wasn’t a skill she had ever really mastered, but with Ian she didn’t feel the frozen awkwardness that hobbled her in other intimate situations.
Despite his looks and his inclusion on that much-maligned list of bachelors, Ian was easy to be with. Real. Honest.
It would crush her if that impression turned out to be false.
“Okay,” she said. “I guess I have to say it now. My field of study has narrowed to the evolution of courtship and marriage rituals among the aristocracy from the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries.”
“Is this the part where I try not to laugh? Sounds very reasonable to me. Not that I’m fully cognizant of acceptable doctoral topics in the history department.”
“It’s a fine topic. Suitably boring. I’m ninety percent sure it will be approved if I write up the proposal and submit it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She took a deep breath, her stomach flipping and flopping as her cheeks heated. Even Finley knew nothing about this pipedream. “I’m not excited about a dissertation. I want to write a novel instead.”
A long silence ensued. Apparently, Ian liked to think before speaking. Another point in his favor, even if it left her dangling in limbo.
He sat up and brushed off his hands. “Interesting.”
A hot blush worked its way from her throat to her hairline. She angled her head away from him, pretending to study a ship out in the horizon. Her eyes stung, though she didn’t know why. She had shared something intensely personal with a virtual stranger. What had she expected?
“We should go now,” she said abruptly. “It’s getting late, and I’m hungry. I want to grab an early dinner and get back to the house.”
Before she could shoot to her feet and head down the hill, Ian caught her wrist in a gentle grasp. “I hurt your feelings. Or made you angry. Or something. I’m sorry, Bella. Talk to me, please.” His voice was low, his words urgent. “I’m a clumsy oaf when it comes to this kind of thing. I had a very short-lived relationship in college with a woman who told me I had the emotional dexterity of a block of wood. I’m afraid she was right. I understand algorithms and equations, but I’m tone deaf when it comes to deciphering the nuances and subtext of conversation. Especially with women.”
Bella was torn between laughter and tears. It wasn’t often that a man identified his own shortcomings so succinctly. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I threw that at you without any context. I shouldn’t have expected a glowing endorsement.”
He released her arm, but put a finger alongside her chin and forced her to look at him. “Is that what you were hoping for from me?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” The color of his eyes entranced her. The shade reminded her of a summer forest back home. Wriggling away from him, she stood up and wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s not important.”
“It must be, or you wouldn’t be so upset.”
“I’m not upset,” she yelled. Stupid man.
He stood up and nodded soberly, though his eyes twinkled. “My apologies for misreading the situation. It might help if you gave me a second chance. I’d really like to hear about this novel of yours.”
“We’re leaving,” she said stubbornly. It was one thing to impulsively mention a lifelong secret dream. It was another entirely to keep plowing ahead when it was obvious the notion of skipping a dissertation was so far out in left field.
Ian wisely allowed the matter to drop, but they were both quiet as they continued their circuit of the island. She suggested a restaurant in the next tiny village. He agreed. The dining room was so small there was no place for a photographer to hide, even if one had gotten wind that Ian was out and about.
