She hesitated again, perhaps debating whether it was too late to take the arm he no longer proffered, and then hurried to remain at his side.
“Then what are you doing on this path?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you visiting—”
“Because,” he interrupted, “I’mbusy.”
“Busy?” she repeated doubtfully. Interest was replaced by skepticism. “How could you be busy?”
The question seemed innocent enough, but Evan couldn’t help but feel Miss Stanton had just insulted him. He walked faster. “Why wouldn’t I be busy?”
“First, you’re independently wealthy. The rich are never busy. I should know.” She stumbled when a bit of sand gave way. He reached over and placed her palm on his arm. She let it rest there. “Second”—she gestured with her free hand—“this isBournemouth.”
Evan had to give her credit. Those were all valid points. Even smugglers had to sail to another country in order to find some excitement. What kind of excitement did Miss Stanton seek?
He glanced down. Her eagerly upturned face appeared to be awaiting answers, not kisses. Pity.
“You’d normally be right.” He let his gaze linger on her lips for the briefest of moments. “But I find myself unusually distracted.”
She thought about that for a moment—and concluded the correct double entendre, given the deepening pink in her cheeks—then forged ahead, unswayed from her course. “So where are you going now?”
“To my brother’s house.” No harm in telling her that much.
“Your—” She gaped at him. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”
Darkness settled into his bones, along with the now-familiar clenching in his gut.
“I don’t... anymore.”
Her fingers clutched his arm a little tighter. “I—You—Is he the one?”
He frowned. “The one what?”
“The one you lost!” She looked up at him, blue eyes wide and unblinking.
Damn it. This was another reason not to have conversations with intelligent females. They had the most annoying ability toreason.To pay attention. And to remember.
“The entire town lost a good man,” he hedged carefully, “when we lost my brother.”
Miss Stanton looked exasperated enough to push him off the cliff.
She scowled. “I’m not dense, you know.”
He did know. That was the problem.
“It’s best you not concern yourself with me or my brother.”
From the sudden glint in her eye, those were the exact wrong words one spoke to Miss Susan Stanton. He began to thinkheshould’ve been the one to run screaming when he’d first noticed her traversing the same trail. “I’ll come with you,” she announced, the avid intrigue in her expression nothing short of dangerous.
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“Yes,” she carried on, by all appearances attempting to drag him along even faster. “We’ll just have to go together. You can explain everything on the way.”
“I’ll do no such thing!”
“Which house belongs to your brother? Is it quite a far walk from here?”
“Miss Stanton.” They were nearing the end of the path, and if she didn’t disappear immediately into the walls of Moonseed Manor, she’d be able to see precisely where he was headed. “Have you forgotten something? For example, that your most fervent wish is tonotbe alone with me?”
Her free hand fluttered as if shooing away a fly. “What could possibly happen?”
