She liked a lot of their arguments, though she would never tell him that. The sparring, the banter, was all part of the fun of life. But this? He’d been cruel to her in front of others. He had gone too far.
“You embarrassed me. You called me Dorotheo in front of others and called me childish. Do you imagine I want to talk to you at this moment?”
“You are still talking to me,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Argh! You are incorrigible.” She turned on the boulder, looking away from him and folding her arms.
“You’re still talking to me.”
She fell silent, determined not to give him the satisfaction of saying another word. She tried to concentrate on the trees further up the hill, watching the branches as they danced in the breeze.
She recognized some rather rare plane trees for this region and was admiring the way the trunks were blotched as if they had been painted by some artist’s brush when she heard a scrambling sound. Looking around, she saw, to her shock, that Stephen was clambering up the rocks toward her.
“What are you doing?” she cried, moving back on the rock. “Stephen! You would never do this. Not in a million years.”
“That’s what I thought. Yet, here I am.” Stephen continued to climb, practically leaping from the first rock to the next. The athletic display merely made the heat spreading up her neck even worse.
What is wrong with me?
She admired his long legs, his lithe, toned build, and then realized he was getting very close, indeed. She moved to her knees, ready to make her escape and climb further up the rocks when he suddenly dropped down at her side.
“Don’t even think of running again,” Stephen said sharply. “I am now covered in rock dust.” He started dusting off his trousers. “So, I will hardly mind chasing you much further, will I?”
“This is unlike you,” she murmured, jerking her head away and returning her attention to the trees.
“Well, I have to do something to make you talk to me.”
“I have no desire to talk to you.”
“Shall I point out that you are still doing it?”
“Stephen!” she snapped. “You could have just let me have my few minutes of peace. You didn’t need to follow me.”
“You forget that I am here in place of your brother.” Stephen held her gaze. “I am here to watch over you. What kind of escort would I be if I let you flounce off into the trees in such a manner and did not follow you? What if you tripped and fell? None of us would know.”
“I did not flounce.”
“You did.”
“Didn’t.”
They both paused and sighed, the sounds competing with the breeze that rustled the leaves around them.
Dorothy wasn’t sure how she felt about Stephen being beside her. She was both angry at his presence and thankful for it. She had grown used to his company over the last ten years and was very accustomed to having him around—not that she would ever admit that to him. Yet, now, his presence irked her, and she kept throwing scathing glares his way.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered . “Please, Stephen.”
He sighed once more and leaned forward, adjusting his stance. He rested his feet on a smaller rock beneath them and placed his elbows on his knees. This wasn’t right for Stephen. His rigid and straight back belonged in a ballroom, not mucking around out here on rocks with her.
“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice as quiet as hers. “Dorothy, look, for what I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you with the words, and it was wrong of me to bring up my name for you in front of others. I guess I am so used to it by now that it just slipped out.”
Dorothy said nothing. She fidgeted, suddenly realizing what an embarrassment she must have been to him all the time. She adjusted the skirt of her gown, trying to straighten out the creases. She wiped more flaky crumbs of pastry she found on her palms off when her hand was suddenly caught by his.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you stop fidgeting.”
“Let me guess, that is not the behavior of a lady either. A lady should sit as still as one for these rocks, shouldn’t she?”
