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“What smells so delicious?” he asked, leaning down and inhaling her neck, letting his lips brush over the soft skin.
She let out a telling groan, and he had a moment of hope that she’d wrap her arms around his neck and make all his dreams begin today.
Long, delicious moments of anticipation passed. Derek looked up at her and slowly moved to align their mouths together.
Straightening away from him and pressing against the door, she cast a glance at Ollie, who’d moved discreetly down the hall. Good man, trying to give them privacy, but him even being there seemed to make Ellery stiffen even more.
“My mom’s not feeling good enough to go to church. She and my Aunt Elise will get everything ready for brunch. Aunt Elise’s famous cinnamon rolls are in the oven. That’s what smells so delicious.”
“I’m pretty sure you are what smells so delicious.”
She smiled, but it was more reserved. Had Ollie thrust her back to reality? Was the reminder of her mom not feeling well making her sad? Had Derek pushed too far or too fast?
His dad preferred ‘horsepower’ to ‘horse flesh,’ but his grandpa had been a lover of fine Arabian horses and they used to have stables behind the castle. Derek remembered being eight years old when his grandpa taught him how to gain a scared filly’s trust. It involved a lot of patience, kindness, and moving very, very slow.
Ellery was much more complicated and incredible than any colt, but he was afraid that old lesson learned was applicable here. Maybe his grandpa was warning him from heaven to be patient. He’d think befriending a woman and constantly being around her for over four months would break down some barriers. Not with Ellery. She was worth the wait and the patience and everything he could do to gain her trust, even if it took forty more months.
He straightened and bravely offered his hand. She looked at it, then up at him. Her green eyes were wary, but they were also filled with longing. She wanted to hold his hand.
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.
