But that did not change the fact that this afternoon the new sensations had hit him upside the head. His skull still felt like it was ringing after the intimate moment when he’d held her in his arms, when she’d relaxed enough to sing, when her voice had carried more emotions than she could ever realize. She’d laid herself bare in that moment, and the way he’d felt about her…
It had been painful.
Crushing.
The wave of emotion had been so intense it had shifted something inside of him forever.
And now she was running away.
“Pru, please wait,” he said, finally catching up to her as she reached the veranda outside the music room doors. “Don’t walk away from me just yet.”
She paused with her back to him and for a moment he scrambled with what to say.
“Please,” he said.
She turned slowly, her gaze wary. “What is it that you want, Damian?”
His breath caught at the searching look in her eyes as much as at the unexpectedness of her question. He suspected she didn’t just mean right now at this very moment. But what did he want, in the long run?
“I want to forge my own path, I suppose.” He stepped closer, grateful when she didn’t rush away from him again. “If I had my way, my uncle would remarry, he’d sire an heir and I could be free to live how I wished.”
He expected the sort of pursed-lip scowl he was used to from her whenever he spoke about stepping outside of her precious society and its rules. Instead he caught a flicker of yearning. Perhaps even desire.
But it was tampered by something sad. Regret, maybe, or longing for something she could not have.
“What would you do if you were no longer the heir presumptive?” she asked.
He licked his lips, oddly nervous. He’d never spoken about this to anyone before but after the way she’d opened up to him—knowingly or not—he couldn’t keep it from her.
“This,” he said with a rueful smile, gesturing vaguely to the two of them. “I’d love to pursue music as a career. Perhaps make it something more meaningful, maybe…” He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Maybe open a conservatory one day.”
His gaze darted back and he snuck a peek at her expression, waiting to see amusement or criticism...but what he found was a thoughtful look as she thought it over. “Yes, I could see that,” she said.
He laughed in surprise. “You could?”
She shrugged. “Of course. You’re passionate about music and you have the connections to make it a success, not to mention the wealth to fund such a venture.”
His eyes widened in shock. “You actually think it could work. That I…” He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to tug on his suddenly too-tight cravat as a bewildering surge of nerves made him fidget like a schoolboy. “You truly think that I could do such a thing?”
Her brows came down, her expression so serious it made him want to hug her. She was oddly adorable when she was so serious like this.
“Of course you could,” she said.
“I don’t know. I don’t have much experience managing something like that or running a business of any sort.”
Her lips quirked up in an endearing smile. “I always thought I’d be rather good at running a business.”
He grinned. “Oh really?”
Now it was her turn to squirm and he delighted in her discomfort. She looked to the ground, her arms crossing defensively. “I’ve always been good with numbers and my friends at the finishing school are forever teasing me about my managing ways.” She peeked up at him. “Silly, isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “I could easily imagine it.”
“You could?” She sounded so surprised but before he could continue, she added, “Yes, well, I suppose my skills will be an asset as a wealthy merchant’s wife.”
The sudden reminder of her arrangement made his throat feel parched and his chest hollow. And then she looked at him and he knew his chest wasn’t hollow at all.
It was full.
It was aching.
And his heart felt like it might burst with feeling.
She looked away first and he had to wonder. Did she feel it, too?
She must. But she was shifting toward the doors, her expression already hardening, her chin setting with determination, or perhaps resignation.
He moved toward her before he could stop himself. He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want this moment to end, and that… That was alarming. “Pru,” he said before he stopped to think. He had no idea what he was going to say.
He felt like he had everything to say and nothing all at once. He wanted to tell her she did not need to live up to her aunt’s impossible standards, but she would not believe him. He wanted to tell her that this gentleman ought to appreciate her for the woman she was, because who she was was perfect. He had this desire to make her see that she deserved so much more than her great aunt could ever know.
He also had the strangest desire to tell her more of his own wishes, to hear her thoughts, to know her opinions, but this wasn’t the time or the place.
He reached for her, grasping her arms and tugging her close. The flicker of shock and heat in her eyes the only giveaway that she felt it too, whatever it was that flowed between them.
He wanted to close the distance, to touch his lips to hers, to feel her breath against his skin.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide.
He fought the urge to pull her closer still, because yes, he wanted to hold her but more than anything he ached to know what it was that she wanted. What she desired when she forgot about her duties and obligations. What she dreamt of when no one else was around and her imagination was free to roam.
He wanted to know her deepest desires, but he was too
