Woo'd in Haste by Sabrina Darby

height,” she repeated with a laugh. “Surely that alone would have been enough to daunt the fiercest antagonist.”
    “Or attract his attention. There was this one boy, he thought if he trounced me, it would prove he was the strongest in the school.”
    “And what happened?”
    “He would have won, because I hadn’t yet learned to make a proper fist. I assure you, it is a skill I have now attained.” In fact he had dedicated himself to learning the art of fisticuffs after that day. “Reggie came to my rescue. Lessened the tension in the entire situation. Made everyone laugh.”
    “He is charming. When he’s not pushing us to insanity!” She shifted, so that her legs were no longer tucked under but stretched out before her. A flutter of white petticoat revealed equally white stockings over shapely calves. Her knees shot back up to her chest and she yanked the hem of her dress down to her heels. A blush stained her cheeks again.
    His own were hot.
    Though they were outside and space was limitless, the air between them was thick.
    “Thomas,” Bianca called out, breaking the tension. “It’s time to return to the house.”
    S he avoided him the rest of the day and the next. Of course, she couldn’t entirely as there was dinner and breakfast and all sorts of moments when their paths crossed. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes, and when they occasionally did, her cheeks burned red.
    Like the inside of his eyelids as he closed his eyes against the light pouring through his unshuttered window. Still unused to fending entirely for himself, he had forgotten to pull the curtain closed. But the light seemed brighter, more yellow. The quality of a late summer morning.
    He reached for his watch. Damn. He should have been at breakfast a good quarter hour ago. As it was, he might very well miss Bianca and then it might be hours before he had a chance to see her again. He quickly stood and went about the process of making himself presentable.
    She was nothing like he had imagined. Beautiful, yes, but he was getting used to that. No longer thrown into stunned silence every time he saw her. Now he noticed all the little details. The slight bump on the bridge of her nose, the slightly asymmetrical tilt of her face.
    But what shocked him most was that she was Bianca . It was silly, but it was somewhat of a revelation to realize she was more than some Pygmalion’s statue come to life. That she had a willful nature and a sense of humor, often biting. That she had a strand of bitterness running beneath the calm surface. Hidden depths.
    It both intrigued him and daunted him. There were moments when he thought she noticed him, as more than her brother’s tutor. Like that day when she had confronted him and then teased him when he’d blurted out some faradiddle about her eyes. How he had expired with embarrassment! And yet, the way she looked when she teased . . . she sparkled, had a beauty utterly different from that created by her still features.
    But then there were moments when she treated him so cavalierly, so utterly unlike the way one would treat a lover.
    Or so he imagined.
    Not that he was her lover.
    Yet.
    He wanted to be.
    He wanted to be everything to her.
    He had been here for almost a fortnight. Had, after the first three days, contrived to spend as much time as possible with her. But none of that was enough. Each glimpse of who she was made him want to know more.
    He hurried down the stairs. This time of year, breakfast was taken in the morning room to take advantage of the summer sun, and once he reached the ground floor, he used the newel post for momentum the way he would have as a child and headed down the hall.
    He saw her form, her head of honey curls farther down the hall, past the open door of the morning room and likely on her way to the library. He was too late.
    But he wanted to see her face. To carry the image of her countenance with him throughout the day. He passed the morning room, picked up pace when