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“Thank you very much. The problem is that my fingers are too large.”
All of him was too large. He had dwarfed every other man in the ballroom.
He would tower over Lord Rafe, taking up all the space in the ballroom, drawing Mina’s eyes to him instead. She must stop having these thoughts.
“Here. Let me help you,” she said brusquely. The sooner he had his cravat tied, the sooner he would leave. Then she would have time to tidy her coiffure and restore her composure before doing what she had come to do.
She stood on her tiptoes and untied his cravat. She hadn’t considered how intimate such a simple gesture might be. Unknotting a cravat, unloosening his clothing.
“I met your sister, Your Grace. A lovely girl.”
He glanced down at her. “That’s what I think, but she’s not popular because of the shortsightedness of London dandies.”
“That’s just silly—all because of a slight affliction of her facial nerves.”
“She’s marked as other. She’s an easy target.”
“I thought she was remarkably clever and well-spoken.”
He smiled at her for the very first time and she had the sensation that he was seeing her—truly seeing her—and that he liked what he saw. “You’re right. She’s sharp as a knife. She should have dozens of suitors.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t wish to wed.”
“Why, did she tell you that?”
“Not in so many words... but she did say that she was looking forward to being an old maid.”
Her fingers shook slightly. Her whole body was vibrating, as if she were stretched over a crossbow and had been plucked by strong fingers.
He had to lean down so that she could reach his cravat.
He would lean in much the same way to kiss her.
And there her mind went again, wishing he would kiss her. It was beyond irritating.
He sank to his knees. “Is this better when I’m down here?”
She made a mistake in the tying and had to start over again. “I could use more light.”
Instead of moving the lantern closer, he placed his palms on her hips and moved her closer to the lantern.
“It will have to be undone,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll get it right eventually.”
Drew was undone. Mixed up and tangled.
The intimacy rolled over him in a wave. Her small fingers at his neck.
Kneeling before her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her breasts. Tease her nipples to peaks with his tongue.
It had been too long. And she was very, very pretty. And he was only a man.
Her beauty was straightforward. It hit him in the solar plexus. Her hair smelled fresh and sunshiny, like a field of wildflowers.
He’d like to loosen those tightly coiled ringlets on either side of her cheeks with his fingers, muss her hair... unfasten that scarlet seduction of a gown.
It had been a long time since he’d felt this buzz in his stomach. Attraction. Awareness.
Whom was she wearing this dress for? While they were dancing, she’d been glancing at the door. She’s made a comment about Rafe. What had she said? That she’d met him on several occasions when he visited her uncle.
