Page 58 of The Mistletoe Dare

Nic looked up, aware of his brother’s hard tone.

“If you tell anyone, even Eliza—non, especially Eliza, I will kill you,” Louis said, his expression fierce.

Nic held up his hands in a peaceable gesture. “Not a word. Upon my honour.”

Louis nodded, a little of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“So, what will you do?”

Louis shrugged. “I cannot seduce an innocent, and until she sees me as something other than her dear friend, I can do nothing but endure.”

“You could tell her how you feel,” Nic suggested.

“And have her run away from me?” Louis shook his head. “Out of the question. I could not bear it. Staying away from her this long has been agony. I cannot keep my distance as I ought to.”

“She might not run…”

“She would.”

Nic sighed, conceding the point. Louis knew the girl better than anyone, and he was an excellent judge of character. “Well then. You’ll wait for her.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look very happy about it,” Nic observed with sympathy.

Louis turned, leaning back against the windowsill. “Would you be?” he demanded.

Nic shook his head.

Louis hung his head, staring at the carpet, his expression taut. “I’m afraid I will lose her, Nic. She is everything good and true in this world. She makes me happy, and I know that for the rarity it is. I am at peace when she is near, and I want her so badly I’m sick with it, but I am afraid.”

Nic stood, his heart aching as he heard the bleak note in his brother’s voice.

“Why?”

“Because I am not the only one who sees her. I am only the one who saw her first, and I must stand back and watch her flirt with other men, allow her the little romances that all young women adore and need to experience before they commit themselves to a husband. I think it might kill me, Nic. And even if I endure all this, she may still never turn to me.”

Nic crossed the room and grasped Louis’ shoulders. “Non. She will come around. Like you said, you must tread gently, that’s all. Be patient, Louis. You, of all men, know how to bide your time.”

Louis let out a breath of laughter. “Ah, oui. So I do, but that does not mean I have to like it.”

Georgie glanced across at Rochford, who must have felt the weight of her observation. He looked back at her, holding her gaze, and awareness prickled down her back.

“Do you miss your family, being away from them at Christmastime?” he asked.

Georgie nodded. “I do, very much. It’s the first Christmas I’ve not spent with them, but when Aunt Prue invited me I was so excited to come, and Mama thought it would be a good opportunity for me to—”

She hesitated, wishing she’d not begun that sentence.

“To find a husband,” he finished for her.

Blushing, Georgie nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you look forward to being married?”

Georgie swallowed, glancing around to see Evie was riding close enough behind for propriety but far enough away to allow them a private conversation. The horses walked out, their breath puffing in clouds of billowing white as the tack jingled.

“I suppose so, though I’m in no hurry. I love my life in Scotland, especially at Wildsyde, and everyone there has known me since I was a baby. It’s familiar and comforting. A new life with a husband… that’s rather terrifying, to be honest. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I suppose I would need to trust any potential husband a great deal to commit my future to him.”