“Wicke is a good man,” Caroline spoke up. “You ought to reconsider.”
“I thought you favored Langley for my husband?” Rebecca retorted and inwardly grimaced when Caroline’s cheeks colored. She refused to feel bad. They were in the wrong, sneaking behind her back to test theories.
“They are both good men,” Caroline said softly.
“Agreed, but I am not convinced Langley is, in fact, seeking to marry and wedding Wicke would be like wedding my brother.” Not to say anything of the fact she had a secret life, one not even her brother or Caroline knew about. They all thought her an innocent creature. Rebecca was not.
She shook her head. “You should never have meddled.”
“Do not blame Caroline, Rebecca,” Mason responded. “I had hoped for you to find happiness, but I see now that I might have gotten ahead of myself.”
No harm no foul, then? Her brother could never hope to understand. He was a man, after all. But there was harm. There was foul. Because Wicke’s actions could never be undone. She would now forever live with the knowledge of how his lips felt on hers. She would forever live with his voice in her head asking for her hand.
Butterflies flapped their wings in her belly.
She would never forget the look of heat in his eyes, shadowed by equal parts vulnerability and uncertainty. What must she do with all that now? Avoid him at all cost?
Her brother, with his ill-thought test, had robbed her of something precious just as Wicke had stolen her first kiss.
“Perhaps you should talk to Wicke,” Caroline suggested. “I am sure his proposal must have come as a shock to you.”
“I would rather not inflame the circumstance and create animosity between us. What is done is done. I only pray you do not put further tales in his or Langley’s head.” The last she directed at Mason.
“Wicke is his own man, as is Langley. I merely invited them.”
Rebecca scoffed. Not because she didn’t believe Wicke could not hold his own counsel, but she did not believe for a second her brother hadmerely invitedtheir houseguests.
Rebecca turned and headed for the door. The walls the room had become confining, the air stale. She already regretted the way she had parted with Wicke. She needed to think. To consider how best to proceed.
“Rebecca . . .”
She ignored her brother and yanked the door open, nearly colliding with a solid, male chest.
Wicke stood there stiffly, hand poised to knock.
Rebecca vaulted back, her neck craning to lock gazes with a set of hard, glittering eyes.
“Rebecca.” His voice brought a shiver down her spine.
“Wicke.”
Tension sizzled between them. And heat. It pooled in her belly and slowly seeped into her veins until it felt as though she might burst into flames.
Rebecca lowered her gaze to break the connection. Without a word, she slipped past him, careful to avoid any contact. She did, however, catch a whiff of the overpowering scent of male. Impossibly masculine. Inconceivably heady.
Rebecca set off at a run.
***
WOLFSTAN CLENCHED HISfists to keep from pursuing Rebecca. Something was different about her. Something he hadn’t noticed until then. She was more forthright. Stronger. More sure of herself. Not that she had been fragile before. She had always been a force of nature in his eyes, regardless of her awkwardness in social settings. Yet an alteration was afoot. Subtle, but it set off ripples of awareness in Wolfstan’s gut.
He recognized the emotion he had glimpsed in her eyes before she fled the scene. He had felt it himself.
Anger.
He bit down on his jaw. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.
Liar.
