No matter how much Nolan tried, the knots of Sienna’s bonnet were stuck tight. He gave a forceful tug, accidentally poking her in the neck.
She jerked back from him, bringing his fingers, still entangled in the ribbons, with her. He staggered forward, his body coming flush with her curves. He barely had a moment to relish the sheer joy of it before she muttered, ‘Ow, ow, ow.’
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He tried to untangle himself from the binding under her chin but somehow only succeeded in pulling her closer.
‘Are you trying to kill me?’ she asked, her breath whispering against his jaw.
‘Via a bonnet!’
‘By throwing me back and forth.’
He ignored that comment, given that it had been she who threw them off balance the first time.
One final, sharp tug on the ribbons and they were both free. He plucked the hat from her, the inside of it still warm from her hair. ‘I do apologise. I appear to have ripped this.’
She gave a brisk nod. ‘Better that than we be stuck together forever in an endless tug of war.’
‘Has anyone ever told you that you exaggerate?’
‘Many a time.’
They weren’t moving apart from one another, which they really should do. Neither of them wanted to be bound to one another for life. She had made it very clear that she was dreadfully against such a thing. He would not want to wed a woman who was prone to hyperbole, even if her overstatements were endearing and the little curls that had escaped from her hairdo and were tickling the edges of her face were fetching. There was absolutely no need for him to brush them away, even if his fingers tingled with the desire to do so.
She was looking up at him, her lips slightly parted, and if she was almost any other woman in the world, he would think that she wanted him to kiss her, but he knew better. Still, she didn’t move. Still, he stared down at her. The summer breeze ruffled her dress, the skirt brushing against his legs. An invisible force was tugging him down. He was bending, curving, moving closer to her mouth.
‘When did I say you were boring? I have no recollection of saying something so obnoxiously rude.’
He jerked upright, stepping away quickly. Of course she hadn’t been waiting to be kissed. He was a fool for it even crossing his mind. His skin burned. If he stepped back even further he would probably blend in with the roses behind him. ‘Your exact words were, “I could not imagine being married to such a dull fellow. It would be a suffocating nightmare wrapped in a hellish blanket of ennui.”’
He’d heard those words in his head for weeks. Every time he’d closed his eyes and tried to sleep, the cutting disdain of her disgust had haunted him. He waited for her to deny it, waited for her to have some excuse that would heal the nearly fatal wound, but her eyes merely widened, her mouth forming an almost perfect circle. ‘Oh yes,’ she said quietly, ‘I did say that.’
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