Page 64 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

The concept of not knowing was foreign to her. Still, the answer seemed clear—Grey was both English and Eastern, and she said as much.

“Logically, yes,” he said. “But when one isn’t English enough to be English, and not Eastern enough to be Eastern, then—” He clenched his jaw. “Does your cousin have any children?”

Farah’s teeth sank into her lower lip. She’d almost forgotten about children. Returning home pushed everything back—everything including children of her own. Despite having forever been focused on her grand, romantic fantasies, she’d always intended to one day raise a rambunctious gaggle of little boys and girls. When she realized she’d allowed yet another hush to fall, she cleared her throat and pasted a bright smile on her face. “She doesn’t plan on it, which means it’s up to me to continue the family line. And Dameer, too, if his heroic apple picking and broken bones end up impressing the object of his affections.”

Grey did not respond beyond a short, “Hm.”

“Anyway,” Farah said, unwilling to let the conversation die so soon, “that’s everyone. My parents, my aunt and uncle, Dameer, Kalila, and Oliver.”

“And you,” Grey said.

Warmth flooded Farah’s face. “Yes. And me.”

“Miss Farah Rafiq,” he said, the syllables falling out of his mouth in what was most certainly an unintentionally sensual cadence. Like most speakers of English, he was unable to roll the Rs of her name, instead softening them into something more gentle. It was a pronunciation she had heard many times before—a pronunciation she’d never thought much of until now.

“You’ll like them,” Farah said, unable to take her eyes off him. “My family, I mean. They’re far more interesting than I could ever hope to be.”

“You’re far too interesting for your own good,” he told her.

“Perhaps, but I’m not remarkable. If I were remarkable, I’d be—never mind.”

If she were remarkable, she’d be loved by more than just her family. If she were remarkable, she would not have been on the receiving end of so many uncertain smiles. If she were remarkable, she wouldn’t have to work so hard to secure that which seemed so easily won by others.

“You’d be what?” Grey pressed.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “Things would be easier.”

“And have things always been easy for your family?”

“Of course not, but—” Farah cut herself off, struck with a sudden frustration. “You know what I mean.”

As if sensing her desire to bring their dialogue to a close, Grey leaned back in his seat with his mouth pressed shut. They spent the next thirty minutes admiring the passing landscape, Farah fighting against the bubble that had materialized in her throat.

“I know,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “I know how unconvincing it sounds. I’m sure I come off as everything that is normal and engaging and what have you, but—it’s just not the way I feel.” She sighed. “What I mean is that I understand if there’s a part of you that wonders what I’m on about.”

“There is,” he said, moving to prop his elbows on his knees. “But only because, to me, you are remarkable, Farah. What else would you call a woman who goes to such lengths to ensure her own happiness?”

“Annoying?”

“Remarkable,” he corrected, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “And that’s not to say I know you better than you do. All I’m saying is that I see you.”

Farah blinked back a sudden flood of tears. Grey had no idea what he was doing to her, how much harder he was making it for her to do what was right.

“And I see you,” she murmured, reaching over to move a lock of dark hair out of his forehead. “I am so lucky to see you, Grey.”

He tensed.

“What’s the matter?”

With some irritation, he said, “I want to kiss you.”

She laughed. “You don’t sound terribly enthused about it.”

Grey shot her a withering glare. She responded with a dazzling smile. In reality, her stomach was fit to burst with thousands of butterflies that had just hatched from their cocoons. He wanted to kiss her, which meant he couldn’t possibly have regretted their night together.

But she was meant to be doing the right thing, wasn’t she?

Her gaze flickered back to his, the butterflies in her stomach multiplying at the molten look in his eyes.