“I’m not pulling you anywhere. I’m staying close enough to look out for you, without interfering.”
“Of course you’re interfering. You interfere with my breathing, you teasing man. I can’t just ignore you, Thorne. I’ve never been able to ignore you, even when I disliked you. Now I’m a toy on your string, dangling on your every move and word. One minute, you’re paying me no mind at all, and the next . . . you’re staring at me the way you’re doing now. As though you’re a voracious, starving beast and I’m . . .”
His jaw tightened.
She gulped and finished in a whisper, “Edible.”
His exhalation was prolonged, measured. An impressive display of restraint.
“Well?” she prompted. “You can’t deny it. There’s something between us.”
“There isn’t nearly enough between us, and that’s the danger. Don’t you have a modest frock in your wardrobe? For God’s sake, just look at that gown.”
She cast a glance downward. She’d dressed for the outing in her best traveling frock—a handed down dove-gray silk. The hues were modest enough, and the sleeves rather long for summer. But from the direction of his gaze, she supposed he’d taken an interest in the row of ribbon bows that marched down the front of the bodice, holding two edges of gray silk together across a thin slice of white lace. It was all part of the gown’s design, of course, but the garment was cleverly stitched to create the illusion that just a few ribbon ties stood between demure modesty and a state of undress.
“You’re like a gift,” he said, his voice rough. “All wrapped up for someone else. A man can’t look at you, but think of loosing those bows, one by one.”
“They’re false bows,” she stammered. “They’re sewn together.”
His gaze never left her bodice, surveying. Strategizing. “I could rip them with my teeth.”
And then what? a foolish part of her longed to ask.
They stood like that, facing one another. Saying nothing, breathing hard, and imagining far too much.
Eventually Badger nosed at her boots, impatient to be on with things. They couldn’t stand here and look at each other all day. No matter how exhilarating it was.
“It’s only physical,” he said, walking on. “It will pass. You’ll be able to release me soon enough.”
It would have been comforting to believe so, but Kate wasn’t convinced.
“I need to know something of you,” she said as they neared the church. “Lark is always asking me questions about you. About us. And I don’t know how to answer. What’s your birthday, to begin?”
“Don’t know it.”
Kate felt a twinge of sadness for him, but then—she’d survived without a proper birthday for twenty-three years.
“How about your favorite color?”
He threw a careless, sidelong glance at her frock. “Gray.”
“Be serious, please. I’m engaged to you, temporarily, and I know nothing of you. Nothing of your family, your history, your childhood.” And after their engagement party, Kate knew he’d been paying a great deal of attention to her.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“That can’t be true. I was raised at a miserable girls’ school, but even I have amusing stories from when I was a child. There was the time it was my turn to help in the kitchens, and I decided to be creative with the seasonings for our evening soup. I accidentally dumped the entire contents of the pepper pot into the broth, and I was too afraid to own up to it. And then it was supper, and I still couldn’t say a word. I’ll never forget watching all my friends and teachers take that first mouthful of soup—”
She broke off, laughing. “Oh, I caught so much trouble. Everyone went to bed hungry, of course. They had me copying out Proverbs for days.”
She waited for him to dredge up some similar story of youthful foolishness. Everyone must have at least one. Everyone. But she waited in vain.
Before she could ask him another question, Badger suddenly perked to attention. His funny little ears stood straight up, pointing skyward like twin church steeples. Then they flattened and he was off like a flash of lightning, streaking toward the church.
“Badger, wait,” she called, rushing after the pup.
Thorne paced her in easy strides. “Don’t call him back. He’s got his sights on a hare or a rat, most likely. Chasing is what he’s bred to do.”
The dog darted toward the small churchyard tucked behind the main buildings. Evidently, the pup’s quarry had escaped through a small hole in the bottom of the stone wall. Badger wriggled through the crack, disappearing from their view.
“Drat,” Kate said, breathless. “We’ll have to go around.”
“This way.”