She was trembling all over. And Rand was right.
“Yes,” she said. “You should leave.”
FIFTEEN
IT WAS A WEEK later, when Lily was exercising her horse, Snowflake, that she spotted Rand running along the bank of the Thames.
He’d avoided her all that time. Or she’d avoided him. Or both—she wasn’t sure. But now, riding toward him, her heart began to race…and it wasn’t from the exertion of the gallop.
She slowed deliberately, both Snowflake’s gait and her own breathing. It didn’t matter that the mere sight of this man set the pit of her stomach to tingling. She wouldn’t let him kiss her again.
She’d promised Rose. Never mind that Rose had contrived to visit Violet every day this week and come back reporting she’d seen neither hide nor hair of Rand. A promise was a promise.
Lily was seeing a considerable amount of Rand’s hide now. Above plain buff breeches, his loose white shirt was unlaced and open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Tied back into a queue, his glorious hair streamed on the wind behind him, shimmering in the sun. His unfashionably low-heeled boots pounded along the grassy bank in a rhythm measured and unceasing.
He ran, she thought, like a wildcat, lithe and sleek.
She knew the moment he saw her. There was a telltale stumble in that perfectly smooth motion. And a matching hitch in her heartbeat.
He stopped and leaned over, hands to bent knees, panting hard as he waited for her to ride closer. When she did, he straightened and looked up at her, using a hand to shade his eyes.
His face was flushed; his shirt clung damply to his skin. That piercing gray gaze swept her from her toes on up. When it met her eyes, searching, it seemed almost as though he were seeing her for the first time.
Holding her reins in one hand, she self-consciously smoothed her butter yellow habit with the other.
“Good day, Lily.”
She swallowed tightly. “Good day.”
“I’m finished running,” he said, stating the obvious. But for some reason, she had a feeling he spoke of more than exercise. Moving beside her white horse, he reached to help her down. “Will you walk with me? I like to do that after I run.”
There was no harm, she supposed, in walking. But when his hands spanned her waist to ease her to the ground, she felt a disturbing jolt of sensation. And he let his fingers rest there longer than he needed to before he stepped back.
She deliberately looked away, taking Snowflake’s reins and looping them over the branch of a scrubby tree.
A sparrow fluttered from the sky and alighted in the sparse foliage. Rand looked up, then raised a questioning brow. “Lady?”
“Yes. She thinks she’s protecting me.”
“She thinks I cannot defend you without her help?” His laugh sounded strained. “She’s insulting my masculinity.”
To the contrary, Lily suspected Lady was acknowledging his masculinity—protecting her from Rand rather than in spite of him. But she certainly wasn’t going to encourage him by telling him that.
They turned and walked along the riverfront, settling easily into a comfortable tempo. Keeping far enough away from him that he couldn’t take her hand, Lily focused on the water. Swans glided majestically, and faint laughter drifted from one of the boats filled with people enjoying the summer sun.
“Do you run often?” she asked, then realized she knew the answer.
Here was the reason he looked so browned and healthy, so lean and sleekly muscled. Apparently not all academics spent their days locked away in research.
“Often enough,” he said. “It helps me think.”
Surprised, she turned her head to meet his gaze. “How can you think while you run that hard?”
“Not during.” He smiled, his teeth blindingly white in his heated face. “After. Like now. When my body is pleasantly worn-out and I can feel the breeze cooling my skin.”
It had always done that for Rand, the running. It wasn’t only the speed. It was the strain of pumping muscles, the sound of pounding feet, the delicious gulps of air rushing in and out of his lungs. The rhythm. It all combined to clear his head—to fill his head—leaving no space for worry or concerns. When he was running, he was only running.
And when he stopped, he could always think more clearly. Life seemed simpler. Problems seemed surmountable. For him, it had worked that way as long as he could remember.
But this time, when he’d stopped, Lily had been there. And he’d thought, quite clearly, that he must be falling in love.
The realization had come out of nowhere, as though he’d stumbled on a key and unlocked a cryptic code. His heart had hammered against his ribs. Was still hammering against his ribs.
He wasn’t sure he believed in love, wasn’t sure he was ready for it. Without his family’s help—without anyone’s help—he’d made a life for himself. A good life, a comfortable life, a life in which he didn’t have to answer to anyone.
A lonely life, a little voice whispered.
“How long have you lived in Oxford?” Lily asked, then watched Rand shake his head as though to clear it.
“Half my life—since I was fourteen. I couldn’t wait to get out of my father’s house. The man doesn’t approve of what I’ve become, but it suits me better than living under his thumb and following his orders.”
“Did he expect you to assist him with his estates?” She knew that Rowan would do that someday, but Rand seemed so independent. Besides, it was different for Rowan. Someday Rowan would be Lord Trentingham, but Rand would never be more than Lord Hawkridge’s younger brother. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to do that, or live the life of an idle gentleman. Between your lecturing and your research, you have so much to contribute.”
“It’s a shame my father doesn’t see it that way. I believe my leaving for Oxford was the only thing we ever agreed on. He was as happy to
