BoopableNoon
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“I’ve always liked the gardens at night,” Kate said as they walked. “They feel almost magical.”
“Magical, indeed,” Anthony murmured, though his gaze was fixed on her rather than their surroundings. “Do you know, Kate, that I used to think myself quite content in solitude? But now, I find the prospect utterly unappealing.”
Kate glanced at him sidelong. “How poetic of you. Shall I assume this is the effect of impending matrimony?”
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Kate reached up, her fingers brushing the edge of his cravat. She let them linger, her touch light and teasing, before she pulled back abruptly. Anthony’s eyes darkened, and she relished the way his composure wavered.
“You are playing with fire, Kate,” he warned, though the huskiness of his voice betrayed his desire.
“Am I?” she countered, tilting her head. “I thought you prided yourself on your ability to withstand any challenge.”
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He chuckled, the sound low and rich, curling around her like the warmth of the evening sun. “Disappointment, Miss Sharma, can be unexpectedly instructive, I’ve noticed.”
Kate arched a brow, her expression sharp enough to cut through his teasing. “Then you must be quite the scholar by now, my Lord.”
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“And if I were?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer. His proximity was unnervingly intimate, though the crowd behind them seemed utterly unaware of the tension crackling between the two. “Would you be terribly scandalized?”
She tilted her head, a small, sly smile curving her lips. “Not scandalized, my lord. Merely unimpressed.”