Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures by Lillian Marek Page A

behave, but she had enjoyed it.
    Her smile broadened. She had felt powerful. Harry’s reaction had been exciting. No one else had ever made her feel excited that way. Certainly not those silly fellows hanging over her at the opera. How foolish of Harry not to realize that in comparison to him, all those fellows were nothing, barely real.
    She stopped to examine that thought. Had she just had a revelation? Compared to Harry, every young man she met was simply…nothing. Was that why all her suitors in London had seemed so boring? Had she been comparing them to Harry all along, without even realizing it?
    Why would she have done that?
    Was she in love with Harry? She rolled the notion around in her mind, tried to dismiss it, but no. It refused to be dismissed. She had somehow fallen in love with Harry. When on earth had that happened? Had it always been true, ever since they were children?
    That was silly. Children don’t fall in love, not that way. But there might be something in the idea because she could see now that no one had ever measured up to Harry.
    All through her childhood, he had been the one who understood her, who never expected her to be timid or insipid, the brother who was always there to protect her, to make sure she never ran into real danger. She was not a fool and thought it unlikely that she ever would run carelessly into danger, but the feeling of safety he gave her was…comforting. It had been comforting then, and it was comforting now.
    He had always been her friend. Her brotherly friend.
    But she was no longer a child, and she found that she wanted him to be far more than a friend. Her thoughts turned back to that evening at the opera. It had been exciting. Just the memory of the way Harry had looked at her, had grabbed her arm to pull her out of sight, gave her a warm feeling deep inside. She could almost feel his hand on her arm, the warmth of it, the strength of it.
    There was no point in trying to hide it from herself. She wanted him to love her, and not in some platonic way.
    She ached to have him touch her, hold her, and—she was not certain what else she wanted, but she knew there was more, much more.
    This yearning could not be just on her part. Of that she was certain. Almost certain. Whenever she brushed against him accidentally, she could swear she felt a current running between them. Every now and then she caught him staring at her with a hungry look before he drew a curtain over his expression. She really did not think this was all her imagination. It could not all be wishful thinking.
    But if he felt this same yearning, what was holding him back? Whatever it was, she needed to do something about it. She was not going to just sit back and wait. This was much too important.
    The dark shapes in the cabin were beginning to grow clear in the gray predawn light. She could make out her mantelet hanging on a hook. The sun would be up soon. They had none of them undressed for the night, since they would be landing early, but she wanted to see the sun rise on her first glimpse of Italy. She slipped her feet into her boots, snatched up her mantelet, and tiptoed out into the hall.
    The world was still a hazy gray when she came out on deck, but Harry was there waiting for her with a lazy grin on his face. Did hearts really jump? She could have sworn hers did when she saw him.
    â€œI knew you would never be able to resist getting up to catch the earliest possible glimpse of Italy,” he said.
    â€œAnd how did you know that?” She took a deep breath and tucked her hand around his arm as they walked to the rail.
    â€œI did the same thing the first time I came.”
    â€œAnd you would have done it again even if I weren’t here.”
    He grinned again. “True enough. But it’s even more fun with company. Watch over there.”
    She followed his pointing finger and gasped when she saw the sharp edge of land appear against the sudden brilliance of the rising