Because of Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys #1)(36)

“Alas, I don’t gamble.”

“With cards,” he countered.

She had a feeling he’d meant to sound droll, but to her ears it was patronizing in the extreme. She scowled. “What do you mean by that?”

He looked at her as if he were mildly surprised by her question. “Just that you gamble quite happily with your life all the time.”

She felt her chin draw back. “That’s absurd.”

“Billie, you fell out of a tree.”

“Onto a roof.”

He almost laughed. “This counters my argument how?”

“You would have done the exact same thing I did,” she insisted. “In fact, you did.”

“Oh, really.”

“I went up the tree to save a cat.” She jabbed him in the shoulder with her index finger. “You went up to save me.”

“First of all,” he shot back, “I did not go up the tree. And secondly, you’re comparing yourself to a cat?”

“Yes. No!” For the first time she was grateful she’d injured her foot. She might have stamped it, otherwise.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come along?” he demanded, “Truly, Billie. What would you have done?”

“I’d have been fine.”

“I’m sure you would have. You’ve the devil’s own luck. But your family would have been frantic, and likely the entire village would have been called out to search for you.”

He was right, damn it, and that just made it worse. “Do you think I’m not aware of that?” she demanded, her voice dropping to a low hiss.

He regarded her for just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “No,” he said, “I don’t.”

She sucked in her breath. “Everything I do, I do for the people here. My whole life… everything. I’m reading a bloody encyclopedia of agriculture,” she said, her arm jerking back toward the book in question. “Volume Four. Who else do you know who —” Her words came to a choking halt, and several moments passed before she was able to continue. “Do you really believe me to be so uncaring?”

“No.” His voice was devastatingly low and even. “I believe you to be unthinking.”

She lurched back. “I can’t believe I thought we were starting to be friends.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You’re a terrible person, George Rokesby. You are impatient and intolerant and —”

He grabbed her arm. “Stop this.”

Billie yanked back, but his fingers were too firmly wrapped around her flesh. “Why did you even come here this morning? You only look at me to find fault.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed.

“It’s true,” she shot back. “You don’t see yourself when you’re near me. All you do is frown and scold and – and – everything about you. Your manner, your expressions. You are so disapproving.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She shook her head. She felt almost revelatory. “You disapprove of everything about me.”

He stepped toward her, his hand tightening on her arm. “That is so far from the truth as to be laughable.”

Billie’s mouth fell open.

Then she realized that George looked as shocked by his words as she did.

And that he was standing very close.

Her chin tipped up, bringing her eyes to his.

She stopped breathing.

“Billie,” he whispered, and his hand rose, as if to touch her cheek.


Chapter 10


H
e almost kissed her.

Dear God, he almost kissed Billie Bridgerton.

He had to get out of here.

“It’s late,” George blurted.

“What?”

“It’s late. I need to go.”

“It’s not late,” she said, blinking rapidly. She looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

I don’t know, he almost said.

He’d almost kissed her. His eyes had dropped to her mouth and he heard the tiny rush of her breath across her lips, and he’d felt himself leaning, wanting…

Burning.

He prayed she hadn’t realized. Surely she’d never been kissed before. She wouldn’t have known what was happening.

But he’d wanted her. By God, he’d wanted her. It had hit him like a swell, sneaking up and then washing over him so fast and hard he’d barely been able to think straight.

He still wanted her.

“George?” she said. “Is something wrong?”

His lips parted. He needed to breathe.

She was watching him with an almost wary curiosity. “You were scolding me,” she reminded him.

He was fairly certain his brain had not resumed its normal workings. He blinked, trying to absorb her words. “Did you want me to continue?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not particularly.”

He raked a hand through his hair and tried to smile. It was the best he could do.

Billie’s brow knitted with concern. “Are you sure you’re well? You look very pale.”

Pale? He felt like he was on fire. “Forgive me,” he said. “I think I’m somewhat —” What? Somewhat what? Tired? Hungry? He cleared his throat and decided on: “Lightheaded.”