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Before Diane could think to ask what that was about, before she could blink even, Liam stood, tearing a rough hand through his hair.
He turned and left, no answers between them at all.
Chapter 6: Kiss and a Miss
Diane was left sittingin the tea shop. She watched, unmoving, uncomprehending, as the bell by the door clattered and sang, the door swinging shut behind Liam.
Had she said something to offend him?
She took a sip from her tea to calm the unease brewing in her chest. Perhaps he thought it was uncouth of her to joke so much about them being married, on the day she had jilted a man he was like a brother to?
Diane sighed, supposing she should go make amends. Perhaps she had enjoyed the idea of pretending they were married a little too much.
She glanced down at the last couple bites of cake. It would be a shame to leave it unfinished.
No one was looking, so she stuffed all that was left into her mouth, dainty dabbed a handkerchief to her lips as she chewed, and took her leave of the place. She looked around the street, glimpsing a few people out, their carriage, and then the tea shop she had just exited.
There was a small garden behind the teashop, a couple trellises full of overgrown leafy vines shading it from the street. Likely for a few chairs and tables during a particularly warm and sunny day.
She caught sight of movement, a glint of Liam’s deep golden hair. It seemed he had chosen the tea garden to pace.
That would be like him. Often during her courtship with Martin, she’d watched from the windows as Liam would pace back and forth in the gardens, wearing the grass down till it was nothing but dirt.
Diane ducked through the low entrance tangled in ivy, to the shady, almost secluded garden. She could smell the lavender much stronger here, and she supposed this must have been where the shop got it for their cakes.
Liam had stopped pacing, his back to her as he retied his hair in a braid. As if the neatness of his hair could contain whatever had rattled him.
He turned at the sound of her approach, the hard lines of his troubled expression melting away as he met her eyes.
“Liam, I...” she started to say, the words trailing off, the intent of her statement lost as she watched his gaze fall to her mouth, and in turn her eyes fell to his.
Suddenly the breath in her chest felt heavier than it should have at their sudden closeness. She put a light hand against his coat lapel to balance herself. She felt his hand hover by her, there to steady her if needed.
Then his hand traced the curve of her cheek, under her chin, lifting her face up.
In a moment she was lost in the crush of their mouths together, the taste of lemon and sugar between them.
