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Somebody had hurt her—Derek was certain of it. How could he show her that she could trust him? He wanted to track down the idiot who had hurt her and use his face as one of the steps on the Block Run obstacle. Give the man a stern talking to.
The moments ticked by and he held steady, hand out, not advancing but not retreating either.
She swallowed, licked her lips, ran a hand down the side of her dress, made his mouth go dry, and then thrust her hand against his.
Her hand slapped his and she let out a nervous laugh. Derek grinned at the awkward hand slap but immediately wrapped his hand around hers. Her laughter died, and she stared at him. Their gazes held as his hand seemed to pulse with the significance and beautiful feeling of her palm against his. She gave him a tentative smile and then murmured, “We’ll be late if we keep this up.”
“I’m sure your vicar would understand.”
She smiled more broadly at that. “You’re right. Pastor Miles would be very happy about this.” She held up their joined hands. Then she tugged him down the hall.
Derek threaded their fingers together as they walked.
“Why?” he asked.
“None of your business, actually.” She winked so the words wouldn’t feel like a slight, but they were.
How was her pastor being ‘very happy’ about her holding hands with him none of his business?
“Good morning, Ollie.”
“Morning, Miss.” Ollie nodded respectfully.
Ollie fell in behind them as they reached the stairs. They descended in silence. Derek wanted to ask more about the pastor, but contented himself that she was at least holding his hand, going to church with him, and interested in him. He hoped.
“The church is actually just down the block,” she said as they walked into the pleasant summer morning air.
“Perfect.” He looked at Ollie. “Have Braxton follow us in the Porsche.”
Ollie nodded, hurried to confer with Braxton, and then strode after them.
They walked hand in hand down the crumbling sidewalk. Ollie caught up easily. This suburb of Boston was sadly lacking in the upkeep, charm, and cleanliness exhibited in the areas of America’s northeast that he usually frequented. Boston itself was a beautiful, classy city, but it always made him smile to himself when people talked about ‘old’ and ‘classic architecture’ in America.
His country of Augustine’s main city of Traverse had buildings dating back to one-thousand A.D. In his opinion, the layout and feeling of the old-world streets in Traverse couldn’t be beat. The only place he preferred above Traverse was his home village of Greenville, and especially his family castle.
He could hardly wait to get back to Augustine and show it all off to Ellery—the cooler temperatures, the exquisite beauty of the mountains, valleys, and lakes, and his family most of all. The fact that he was bringing home the woman he’d been praying to have a chance with was just about perfect.
Would it scare her away if he admitted he’d been biding his time, living in an apartment with a couple of muscle head bodyguards, hoping for the opportunity to date her? Somehow, they’d skipped the dating step and he was taking her home. It was a good thing they were headed to church because he needed to send up a lot of prayers of gratitude in the Lord’s building on His holy day.
“You are very … grinny today,” she said, glancing askance at him as they walked around some rubbish on the sidewalk.
“I’m holding hands with the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t you think I should be?”
“Oh, boy. Now that I’ve agreed to go to the wedding with you, are you going to be spewing out fake, gushy compliments constantly?”
They reached the courtyard of the church. It was a classic and stately brick building with a low wrought-iron fence lining the sidewalk and separating it from a graveyard around the side. A bubbling concrete fountain and a spot of green grass were the only decorations out front. It was free of garbage and graffiti, and that was impressive in this neighborhood.
A family and an older couple walked in. They raised hands to Ellery, and she waved back.
Derek stopped walking next to the fountain and tugged her around to face him. “That compliment wasn’t fake or gushy.” She’d started the gorgeous teasing. He’d called her breathtakingly and astoundingly gorgeous, and she’d giggled. Now she was giving him a hard time about ‘beautiful’? Was she going to tell him once again she was going to Augustine as his ‘friend’?
“Yes, it was.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m going to give you loads of compliments, and you’re just going to have to accept them.” He gave her a bold pump of the eyebrows even as he prayed he wasn’t pushing too hard. He probably should wait until she was on that plane and his captive audience of one before he went full-court press.
A scared little filly? But she wasn’t. Not his Elle. She was brave, confident, and could cheer for an adversary as easily as she turned him down for a date. He loved her confidence, but he wanted her to stand by his side, not put him in his place, lying on the ground beseeching her to give him a chance. He was a once-confident prince humbled completely by this kind and tough lady.
“Oh, I am, am I?” She pulled her hand free, planted her palms on her hips, and tossed her hair.
