hand wasn’t even actually touching her skin? As they approached the bench, Lucy’s boot caught on a protruding root in the ground.
“ Oh!” Arms flailing, she teetered forward and back, trying not to fall. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close.
“ Miss Ashbrook, are you hurt?”
If she said yes, would he keep holding her? Tempting. But not truthful. “No. I’m fine. Simply clumsy. Thank you for rescuing me, though.” She waited. Any moment now he would release her, and the warmth of their bodies pressed together would be gone.
But he didn’t.
“You’re welcome.” His face brushed against the back of her neck. The sensation so soft, so light, she nearly thought she’d imagined it. But when he breathed warm air on her skin, stirring small wisps of hair that had pulled loose from the pins beneath her hat, she knew. Knew that he had touched her. Nuzzled her. Breathed in her scent.
Loosening his grasp, he turned her around. Now face to face, his dark eyes and de ep dimple were in view. And quite, quite close. Heart thudding, mouth dry, Lucy swallowed hard. “I…”
He stepped away and dropped his arms to his side. “Please forgive me. I’m not sure what… that is, after I caught you, I just…”
“ It’s fine, Mr. Barrow. No harm done. Truly.” If you only knew!
“ Since we are becoming, if I might be as bold as to say, friends, do you suppose we could address each other by our Christian names?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I would like that. Very much.”
“ In that case. I’m Oliver.”
“ Nice to make your acquaintance, Oliver. I’m Lucy.”
“ Lucy. What a charming, lovely name.”
“ Why, thank you. I—” Why was Oliver frowning? “Is something amiss?”
He pointed behind her. “Some deranged person is flapping his arms and making his way straight for us.”
“ Oh, dear, I do hope it’s not an escapee of Bedlam. ”
Chapter Six
“Lucy!”
A man ran toward them, waving his arm s back and forth. What in the world? Who would…? She frowned. It was Conrad Croome. What was he doing there?
Panting by the time he neared them, though he hadn’t come terribly far from the gate, Conrad slowed to a walk a few yards away.
Oliver leaned close and whispered , “Do you know him?”
She bl ew out a frustrated breath. “Unfortunately.”
“ Would you like him to be escorted out of the Sanctuary? I’d be more than glad to see to it. Personally.”
Lucy looked at Oliver. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to the now very near Conrad. “But no. I cannot. I’ll explain to you the reason later.”
“As you wis h.” He gritted his teeth, causing his jaw muscle to flex, but it came and went so quickly, Lucy wondered if she’d imagined it.
Conrad finally reached them as he fished in his pocket and produced a lily-white handkerchief. Everything about the man was always in order. Did he never have a strand of hair askew? A speck of dirt beneath his nails? Of course not. He never bothered to do anything that would cause him a moment’s trouble or effort.
Oliver gl anced away. Was he comparing his own appearance to Conrad’s? If he only knew how that didn’t matter to her. That she found Conrad detestable and always had.
But Oliver… Everything about him seemed w onderful to her.
Right.
Perfect.
Conrad folded his handkerchief, put it carefully in his pocket, smoothed his hair, and adjusted his jacket. “Lucy, how lovely to see you here again.”
She frowned. Why did he make it sound as if his being at the Sanctuary was a common occurrence? She’d never seen him there. Not once. She rarely saw the man out of doors unless it was to leave his house to climb into his carriage. And if one could believe the gossip spread from his servants to her father’s, Conrad even insisted that the driver pull the carriage up as close to the front door as possible so he didn’t soil the bottoms of his expensive boots.
The
“ Oh!” Arms flailing, she teetered forward and back, trying not to fall. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close.
“ Miss Ashbrook, are you hurt?”
If she said yes, would he keep holding her? Tempting. But not truthful. “No. I’m fine. Simply clumsy. Thank you for rescuing me, though.” She waited. Any moment now he would release her, and the warmth of their bodies pressed together would be gone.
But he didn’t.
“You’re welcome.” His face brushed against the back of her neck. The sensation so soft, so light, she nearly thought she’d imagined it. But when he breathed warm air on her skin, stirring small wisps of hair that had pulled loose from the pins beneath her hat, she knew. Knew that he had touched her. Nuzzled her. Breathed in her scent.
Loosening his grasp, he turned her around. Now face to face, his dark eyes and de ep dimple were in view. And quite, quite close. Heart thudding, mouth dry, Lucy swallowed hard. “I…”
He stepped away and dropped his arms to his side. “Please forgive me. I’m not sure what… that is, after I caught you, I just…”
“ It’s fine, Mr. Barrow. No harm done. Truly.” If you only knew!
“ Since we are becoming, if I might be as bold as to say, friends, do you suppose we could address each other by our Christian names?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I would like that. Very much.”
“ In that case. I’m Oliver.”
“ Nice to make your acquaintance, Oliver. I’m Lucy.”
“ Lucy. What a charming, lovely name.”
“ Why, thank you. I—” Why was Oliver frowning? “Is something amiss?”
He pointed behind her. “Some deranged person is flapping his arms and making his way straight for us.”
“ Oh, dear, I do hope it’s not an escapee of Bedlam. ”
Chapter Six
“Lucy!”
A man ran toward them, waving his arm s back and forth. What in the world? Who would…? She frowned. It was Conrad Croome. What was he doing there?
Panting by the time he neared them, though he hadn’t come terribly far from the gate, Conrad slowed to a walk a few yards away.
Oliver leaned close and whispered , “Do you know him?”
She bl ew out a frustrated breath. “Unfortunately.”
“ Would you like him to be escorted out of the Sanctuary? I’d be more than glad to see to it. Personally.”
Lucy looked at Oliver. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to the now very near Conrad. “But no. I cannot. I’ll explain to you the reason later.”
“As you wis h.” He gritted his teeth, causing his jaw muscle to flex, but it came and went so quickly, Lucy wondered if she’d imagined it.
Conrad finally reached them as he fished in his pocket and produced a lily-white handkerchief. Everything about the man was always in order. Did he never have a strand of hair askew? A speck of dirt beneath his nails? Of course not. He never bothered to do anything that would cause him a moment’s trouble or effort.
Oliver gl anced away. Was he comparing his own appearance to Conrad’s? If he only knew how that didn’t matter to her. That she found Conrad detestable and always had.
But Oliver… Everything about him seemed w onderful to her.
Right.
Perfect.
Conrad folded his handkerchief, put it carefully in his pocket, smoothed his hair, and adjusted his jacket. “Lucy, how lovely to see you here again.”
She frowned. Why did he make it sound as if his being at the Sanctuary was a common occurrence? She’d never seen him there. Not once. She rarely saw the man out of doors unless it was to leave his house to climb into his carriage. And if one could believe the gossip spread from his servants to her father’s, Conrad even insisted that the driver pull the carriage up as close to the front door as possible so he didn’t soil the bottoms of his expensive boots.
The
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