her
fan.
Likely because she had forgotten she had
brought it in the first place.
It clattered to the floor lightly, and she
closed her eyes in embarrassment at her own clumsiness.
"Allow me," Lord Graham spoke.
"No I've—" Bethanny's eyes flew open as she
knelt down to retrieve her fan.
As luck would have it, her elbow soundly
clocked Lord Graham's head as he rose from retrieving the offending
object.
"Ow!" He reached up to rub the surely sore
area.
"I'm so sorry!" Bethanny spoke,
horrified.
"Blo—er… ah, that... is fine, miss." He
closed his eyes a moment, likely from the dull pain her elbow had
needlessly inflicted on his person.
"I'm ever so sorry, my lord!" Bethanny felt
her face heat with a scarlet blush that had to make her practically
glow. She certainly felt like it. Without thinking, she reached up
to his scalp and felt for the knot, her thumb grazing slightly over
the skin as to not cause him discomfort, much like she had done a
million times to her sisters.
But Lord Graham was most definitely not her sister…
Her hands stilled as she realized just what
she was doing. "Forgive me, my lord." She quickly withdrew her
hands and took a step back, belatedly realizing just how close she
had been to him. The scent of cinnamon and cedar hung in the air,
wrapping a spell of enticement around her, beckoning her to come
closer. She started to take a step back, away from the temptation,
but his hand at her back stopped her.
Practically burned through her, or so it
felt.
"I'm quite well. However, I thank you for
your concern," he whispered, his voice intimate.
"I—I'm usually not quite so… graceless,"
Bethanny answered, her thoughts muddled by the intense gaze with
which he captivated her. In the moonlight, his amber eyes were
silver, his golden-hued skin a soft buttery gold. He was
beautiful..
"I'm quite thankful you are… you see, I was
trying to find some excuse to hold you, and you neatly provided me
with the perfect opportunity," he murmured, his gaze leaving hers
and traveling down the line of her jaw and the curve of her nose
before resting on her lips.
Dear Lord, he is going to kiss me.
"I do think you could have done without the
knot I gave you at the top of your head," she replied, her words
teasing but her tone far from it.
"A small price to pay." He shrugged.
"However, I do believe there is a custom, when one gets an
injury."
"Oh?"
"Indeed, usually, the injured party is given
a kiss."
"Is that so? Silly me. I thought that was
only practiced in the nursery." Bethanny raised a challenging
eyebrow as her heart raced, beating an excited rhythm that hoped he
would make good on his word and, indeed, kiss her. However, it
would never do to appear too eager.
"I have it on good authority that it is still
practiced outside of the nursery as well… so, being with tradition
and all, I would appreciate a kiss." His dimples deepened as his
smile widened then relaxed as his gaze once again became deep and
soulful, searching hers.
"I cannot see the harm in upholding
tradition. If you'll simply bow your head—" Bethanny began, knowing
full well that was not his intention.
"Of course."
And before Bethanny could even close her
eyes, his lips caressed hers. The touch was soft, lingering and
velvety. His warm breath tickled as he drew back slightly. Her
eyes, which hadn't closed, gazed directly at his. As if spoken out
loud, his gaze asked for permission to kiss her again. At her
slight nod, his lips met hers once more; however, this time,
Bethanny closed her eyes, not wanting anything to distract from her
first kiss, and as she had always hoped, it was from Lord
Graham.
Graham was trying to not show his surprise
that the mysterious miss on the duke's balcony — he still thought
it was a clever title — was an innocent. Though, it wasn't a bad
surprise, it was still quite shocking to him. He rather thought she
was at least experienced beyond a first kiss. However, as she gazed
at him just