Our Wicked Mistake (32 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

BOOK: Our Wicked Mistake
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A woman. Luke spent his nights elsewhere, and Miles had made it a point to come in very late and leave again very early to avoid running into Elizabeth.
“I’ve kept my distance.” He tried to not sound defensive, just conversational. “Not just for her sake either. You know how I feel. Can you blame me?”
“No, I can’t say that I do, but is it how to deal with your dilemma? You cannot avoid her forever.”
That was true, he supposed, but he was certainly trying. The music swirled, the dancers moved, and Miles wished more than ever that the season wasn’t so far along and the weather so warm, because under his coat he was sweating. His gaze swung moodily back to the dance floor. “She looks lovely.”
“She wants to talk to you.”
Miles tore his attention away from Elizabeth’s graceful form, his attention suddenly riveted. “Why?”
“Why? Devil take it, Miles, you know her. Naturally she wishes to discuss that kiss I witnessed by the fountain the other day, and I am going to guess a great deal more. Elizabeth has grown up, but she hasn’t entirely abandoned the persona of that precocious companion you remember either. I think you recall very well that when she is bothered, she approaches the problem in a straightforward way.”
Neither the words
bothered
or
problem
were very flattering. He swallowed and murmured, “I am not sure I wish to have that conversation.”
“And I am just as sure you have very little choice. She’s threatened to corner you in your bedchamber, a tactic I don’t approve of, so why not save us both a great deal of worry and simply speak with her? This,” Luke added impassively, “is your chance to make your case.”
Miles felt something within him loosen. It wasn’t true relief, because he still had to hear what Elizabeth had to say, but it was a release from the self imposed distance he’d put between them. He could endure much, but not this separation. When she’d left after that soul shattering kiss, he had agonized over what might happen next, and, yes, he’d known all along he was just putting off the reckoning. “She
can
be rather stubborn at times.”
“You are telling that to her aggrieved guardian.” Luke said dryly. “Perhaps you can relieve her current dance partner of his duties and take her outside to the garden for some fresh air. I think I can trust both of you to not surrender to a fit of passion in Lady Roteger’s rose bed.”
Miles wasn’t sure she wanted to
ever
surrender to a fit of passion with him, and it was shredding his soul into tiny ribbons.
But maybe, since she’d asked her brother to approach him . . .
No, it wasn’t prudent to hope. “Think of the possible scratches,” he agreed with feigned calm. “I do believe we can be depended on to merely discuss matters as two adults might.”
“Adults? Yes, please concentrate on that new slant to your relationship.” Luke’s gaze was watchful. “This is not child’s play. Be prudent, and bring her back in be fore any whispers arise.”
“I will,” he vowed.
“The music is ending,” Luke pointed out, “and I have a rather full evening, so if you don’t mind, now would be an opportune time.”
Miles knew a gift when he received one.
He went.
“You look flushed.”
At the sound of the oh so familiar voice, Elizabeth took in a deep, calming breath. Miles stood only a few feet away, materializing out of the melee of dancers, tall and striking in his formal evening clothes. He went on in an ordinary tone, his expression neutral. “Not that it isn’t becoming, but maybe a breath of fresh air wouldn’t hurt, El.”
Her partner, a young man whose exaggerated side whiskers and pomaded hair, coupled with diamond buckles on his shoes, gave him a dandified air, apparently caught the easy use of her nickname, and bowed a farewell.
Miles watched him go with an irritating air of amusement. Elizabeth said tartly, “He’s actually very charming and waltzes beautifully.”
“I am sure he is a veritable paragon of a fashionable gentleman.” Miles transferred his gaze back to her. “Will you walk with me in the garden for a few moments?”
It happened again. One of those moments when her pulse quickened and she seemed to forget everything else in the world simply because he was looking at her.
Or maybe it was the
way
he was looking at her.
He lifted his brows, waiting.
After all, she was the one who wished to speak to him, to settle this between them, but she still didn’t know what she was going to say, which was a very real problem. It would come to her, or she hoped it would, and all she knew was she couldn’t bear a life with Miles avoiding her company.
She couldn’t bear a life without
him
. Elizabeth nodded, and when he offered his arm she put her hand on his sleeve and let him escort her through the throng and out the open terrace doors. They weren’t the only ones wanting a reprieve from the stuffy ballroom, and several other couples were outside, leaning against the balustrade or sitting on the stone benches. Miles chose to go down the steps and guide her toward the flagstone path, neither one of them saying a word.
It was cloudy and a bit close, the drifting cover above obscuring the moon, the light wind moving softly. In the shifting light, it was hard to read Miles’s expression, and Elizabeth tried to emulate his composure by resisting the urge to start this conversation. As far as she was concerned, when he kissed her, he’d taken the initiative to change their lives.
Forever.
They stopped walking on one of the shadowed paths, his footsteps slowing until they halted, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Luke said you wished to speak to me.”
The formal sound of his tone was irritating, but actually, she was grateful for it. Being irritated with Miles was nothing new, but her fluttering pulse in his presence now was disconcerting. Bolstering her courage she said, “I thought maybe we should discuss what happened.”
“Happened?”
“Miles, don’t be obtuse on purpose. You kissed me.”
“Like this?” His hand cupped her cheek and he unexpectedly brought his mouth down to hers so quickly she gasped, his other hand running lightly down her bare arm as he kissed her . . . and kissed her . . . the nuances shifting like treacherous sands. First he was almost desperately tender, then forceful, and then sweetly giving again, twining their fingers together as he finally lifted his head. “You were saying?”
Had it not been for the slight unsteadiness of his voice, she would have been furious with him. After all, what she wanted was a calm, rational discussion of why on earth he’d kissed her in the first place, and now he’d gone and done it again.
Quite a thorough job of it too.
Leaving her incapable of coherent thought. “Yes, exactly like that. Well, no,” she modified. “This time was a little different. . . . Oh, Miles
, why
?”
His grin was lopsided, the kind he used to wear when he’d done something particularly annoying. “Would you believe me if I said it’s because I adore you? That I think you are possibly the most beautiful woman in the world . . . Wait, did I just say
possibly
?
The
most beautiful woman on this earth, and that even back when you told me I was despicable and ill-mannered and wished me straight to perdition on a regular basis, I thought so then too.”
Speechless, she could only stare at him, at those achingly familiar features—the slightly long nose, the lean shape of his jaw, the golden hue of his eyes, shadowed as they were by the insufficient light, and she realized this
was
heart pounding and flirtation and fanfare.
It was love. Good heavens, she loved Miles. Of course, a part of her knew she always had, but not in this way. There was affectionate love, and then there was
this.
“When you went to university I . . . I was miserable over you leaving.” The halting words were more for her own edification than his, as she looked back, remembering. “I couldn’t believe it.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “Think of me. I already knew I loved you. I was reluctant to go, knowing I wouldn’t see you for months at a time, but Chas insisted and my mother agreed, and I suppose they knew even back then how I felt. You were too young anyway—they were right—but it was difficult. I thought it might get better.”
As far as she could tell, everyone had known except her. “You should have told me.”
“No.” He shook his head, his hair brushing his collar. “Absolutely not. For many reasons, but the most important being that you needed your bow, and you needed to be courted and have flowers sent, and to decide for yourself if you ever wanted to settle for a man who hasn’t an exalted place in society or a large fortune or anything in particular to offer except that he loves you.”
Suddenly she was trembling, hot and cold at once, and she clung to his hand as if she would never let go. “I think you have a bit more than that,” she murmured, her hold on her emotions a mere thread, her throat oddly tight. “You can climb a tree higher than anyone I know.”
“The very stuff good husbands are made of.” His mouth twitched.
Husband.
She quivered. Was she really going to marry Miles?
Oh, yes.
“But you do have a lot of flaws,” she pointed out, fas cinated by the way he looked at her, as if maybe he truly did adore her . . . and how could she have been so blind anyway?
“Dozens,” he confirmed, as his lashes lowered just a little and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Perhaps even hundreds, but look at the positive aspects of our situa tion. You already know them all.”
“I don’t know if that’s a point in your favor or not.”
“Maybe this is.” He pulled her closer and his mouth did something tantalizing to the spot under her ear. “I promise to satisfy all your curiosity, El. Every question I couldn’t answer for you before. All the secrets your mother won’t tell you about what happens between men and women. Are you interested?”
He knew she was, damn him, but he had yet to ask the real question. Her arms slid around his neck. “Perhaps you should clarify the offer. As it stands, I think you are more likely to find yourself at the end of Luke’s dueling pistol.”
“Will you consent to be my wife?” His whisper was sultry, seductive, and she shivered in response. “I vow to take you eel fishing, and for forbidden moonlit walks through the woods, and we can lie on the bank by the river on sunny afternoons and spin dreams. It isn’t much, I know, but—”
She stopped him by pulling his head down so she could kiss him with lingering, eloquent pressure, still learning, still marveling over how such a simple contact could be so combustible. “Be quiet, Miles,” she whis pered against his lips. “You can be such a fool at times. It isn’t much? It’s everything, you dolt.”
“Is that a yes?” He was laughing now, like she remembered, rich and mocking, and she
loved
the sound. “You can’t accept a proposal and call your future husband a dolt in the same breath.”
“Of course I can.” She smiled at him mischievously. “I am very good at breaking the rules when I am with you, remember?”
 
So much for asking Miles to bring Elizabeth back before anyone noticed their prolonged absence. Luke pulled out his watch, looked at it again, and thought it was probably going quite well, considering the time passed.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
At the sound of the cool, clear voice, Luke turned from his frowning appraisal of the open French doors to the terrace. “Michael.”
“I received your note.”
And correctly deduced his destination his evening, though it was hardly a secret, as he had to squire Elizabeth to all the most popular entertainments. This ball was certainly crowded to an uncomfortable extent, the hostess popular among the beau monde.
Madeline wasn’t in attendance, sending word she was going to the country to stay a few days at her sister-in-law’s estate before bringing Trevor back to London. It hadn’t been welcome news. The restless ennui that had plagued him so severely during the past year was held at bay by her presence. He was, in short, going to miss her.

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