“I can be an exceptionally annoying person. I don’t read people well, and I very often insult people. Thus, people are inevitably… well,mean. It’s not a?—”
She broke off as I took another step towards her, saying in a low voice, “Baby, I askedwhowas mean to you.”
“Baby?” she whispered, her eyes flying even wider as she took another faltering step back, but she stopped when she came up against the large oak table behind her.
My eyes flashed down to her legs, and I frowned at the large bruise I hadn’t noticed there. Before I could think better of it, or in fact, think anything at all, my hand came up and I traced my fingers along the edge of the discolouration without actually making contact with her skin.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
“W-what?” She shook her head, her voice breathy now, and she looked dazed rather than scared.
“The bruise on your leg, love,” I said softly.
She shook her head again. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath, and she pressed her lips together in a thin line. Clearly, it wasn’t nothing, but she didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it. Suddenly not having Vicky’s trust felt very, very wrong.
I swore under my breath as I pulled my hand back. “I really am sorry for what I said, Vicky.”
“It’s not?—”
“Do you forgive me?”
“I… there’s nothing to forgive.”
I decided to let that lie for the moment and move on to my next line of questioning.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Her eyebrows went up. “It’s not currently a mealtime. In fact, there are…” her eyes flicked to a clock on the wall, then back to my ear. “Three hours and thirty-eight minutes until the next mealtime. Approximately.”
I smiled again. “Approximately?” I teased.
“Well, yes,” she said with a small frown. “I only have the wall-mounted clock to estimate with. I’ve tried to convince the Hardings to install digital clocks in their house, but my half-brother is resistant to the idea. So, I have to rely on inaccurate, often very old analogue devices. The one over there is two hundred years old and loses three minutes and thirty-eight seconds every year. I adjust it every six months, or however often I’m here if the frequency is less, but in general, the Buckingham Estate is running on inaccurate timings. So that was an approximation of the?—”
She broke off as my hand came up to her delicate jaw, tilted her head back slightly, and my mouth closed over hers. In my defence, she looked so gorgeous with the sunlight still shimmering off her hair, and tiny freckles that must normally be hidden under make-up across the bridge of her nose, that her adorable little clock accuracy rant simply tipped me over the edge.
Given how dilated her pupils were, how rapid the rise and fall of her chest was, and how Iknewthat she found me “extremely attractive”, her instant reaction was unexpected.
My lips were only on hers for a fraction of a second, enough to feel how unbelievably soft they were, and enough to notice the sharp, indrawn breath she took before suddenly wrenching away from me.
Blocked by the table at her back, she scrambled to the side until she was clear of it, backing away, her hand up in front of her as if to ward me off. Her eyes were wide, her breathing was way too fast, and her hands were shaking.
What the fuck was going on?
“Christ, Vicky, I’m sorry,” I said, taking a step towards her, but halting in my tracks when she took another one back. I held up my hands in surrender. “It’s okay. I’m not going to touch youagain. I promise. I wouldneverhave kissed you if I didn’t think you’d be right there with me.”
Her lips were pressed together, and her hands had slowly crept up to her ears—not to cover them, but to sort of rest near them under her hair. And I noticed that she was rocking. It was atinymovement, and I only caught it because I was watching her so closely, but she wasveryslightly rocking backwards and forwards.
My chest tightened as real concern shot through me.
What had I done?
“Vicky?” I said, taking another tentative step towards her.
She was so wrapped up in her own world that she didn’t seem to notice.
