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Instead, she squared her shoulders like a grenadier, and Royal braced for the cutting words that would surely flow from her beautiful lips. God knew he’d earned them.
But when he saw the tears in her eyes, glittering like star sapphires, his heart blackened with shame.
“You’ve got it so wrong,” she choked out. “I don’t pity you. I admire you.”
A startled laugh somehow escaped his tight throat. “Why, for God’s sake? I’m an ill-tempered fool without a shred of courtesy. You should find a vase and smash it over my thick skull.”
She shook her head so hard her curls bounced. “You don’t hide from your pain, but you don’t make a show of it, either. You just . . . live with it, as if it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I could ever be that brave.”
Oh, it mattered. Pain was now the cornerstone of his life. But as for living with it, what choice did he have? Nick had defied his superior officers and risked his own life and career to save Royal from certain death. Because his brother and the rest of the family needed him, Royal would bloody well keep on surviving for their sakes.
How could Ainsley ever understand that? And why did she even care?
“My lady, I don’t know what you want from me,” he said.
She swallowed before answering. “I . . . I like you, that’s all. If you can say that to me, why can’t I do the same?”
He shook his head, afraid to even think what she meant.
“Besides, I’m trying to be nice,” she added, sounding rather surly. Inexplicably, that tone eased the tightness in his chest. “Icanbe nice, you know, despite what people say about me. And I choose to be nice to you, specifically, you dreadful man.”
As he took a step closer, Ainsley held her ground, meeting his gaze with one both defiant and curiously vulnerable.
And Lady Ainsley Matthews was never vulnerable.
He gently rested a hand on her ridiculous poof of a sleeve. Royal longed to touch the smooth, bare skin just beyond the frill of lace and silk, but he didn’t yet dare. They barely knew each other, and yet the connection between them was battering through his rib cage, forging a path straight to his heart.
When she didn’t pull away from his touch, he found his voice. “I don’t need you to be nice to me, either.”
She stared up at him, her violet, wide-eyed gaze shimmering with vulnerability and longing. Longing for him? It seemed impossible.
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
He left the safety of her sleeve, brushing across her soft skin to cup the back of her neck.
“This,” he whispered as he lowered his head to her parted lips.
He sank into a cloud, into a soft whisper of passion with the promise of more to come. Though their lips barely touched, their breaths became one, a press of silken heat between one heartbeat and the next.
Those heartbeats were enough to know he was forever changed, no matter what happened next.
Drawing in a steadying breath, he reluctantly let his hand drop away, straightening to put some room between them. It was still much too close for propriety’s sake, since her breasts—God, those magnificent breasts—all but brushed the front of his coat.
Ainsley breathed out a little sigh that hesworewas one of regret, then her eyelids fluttered open. He waited for her to speak—or haul off and slap him—but she simply gave him a dreamy, sweet smile. It was so unlike her that he was tempted to laugh. Or collapse from the joy and astonishment flooding through him.
He was struggling to find a safe path through the emotional earthquake. “Lady Ainsley, shouldn’t you apologize for taking advantage of me? I am quite shocked, I must say.”
She blinked, the smile fading as her expression turned blank.
He was a moron of the first order to make a joke of their first kiss—a confounded, stupid joke.
Then she giggled, a charming ripple that drifted around him like butterflies on a summer breeze. Everything about her was magical. She transformed the air he breathed and made him dizzy.
She playfully tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Kendrick, if you think—”
“What the devil is going on here?” blared an aggrieved voice from behind them.
Ainsley jerked away, the backs of her knees connecting solidly with the bench. Royal shot out an arm to steady her, but his damn leg chose that exact moment to buckle and he staggered. She slapped her hands on his chest, bracing him against a humiliating tumble.
