“Pardon granted,” she whispered. “Go on.”
“I’m… I…” He shifted against her as though his limbs were all a rumpus. Much like her quivery midsection. “I’m— Bloody hell. I just noticed they seated you directly beneath…put us below…”
Eyes wide, she leaned toward him, seeking to understand. “What? The ceiling? Is something broken or not to your liking?” He growled and she gave a decisive nod as if everything were suddenly clear. “That’s it…the hanging candelabra! I was placed beneath sputtering candles that have now burned out and earned your ire, but no… I don’t smell any remnants of smoke. Do tell me, are we about to be set upon by a flock of rebellious wicks?”
“You think I’m so grumpy as to complain about a trifling chandelier?”
“Trifling? I daresay you would not call them so if the light they shed allowed you to see.” Realizing what she’d said, she tacked on, “Which they do, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You aren’t,” he groaned. “You have the right of it and I no doubt deserve to be bashed on the head with a heavy chandelier…only that is not what hangs above us.”
“Then, pray, what is the source of your consternation? Did Mrs. Parksen guide me to a perilous location?”
“Perilous for my sanity,” he muttered darkly. “We’re sitting directly beneath a kissing bough.”
“Noooo…” Oh, the possibilities that brought to mind!
“Yes. An emphatic yes.”
Was he angry? She couldn’t tell. “Yet had you not mentioned it, I would have remained oblivious.”
“True.”
Her lips tingled.
Her whole body burned.
A clock somewhere in the room ticked away the seconds.
Yet for Isabella, time stood still.
His touch along the back of her hand firmed. “I cannot help but notice you make no move to, ah…move.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Nor do you.”
Now what? Did he place his lips against her trembling own? Cup her cheek and smooth his thumb down her temple and get slapped for his efforts?
The innocent feel of her hand upon his thigh brought forth all manner of anything-but-innocent urges. Had since he’d secured it there.
By damn, if a slap was in the offing, he wanted to do significantly more than steal a simple kiss. “But I also want my bloody questions answered.”
“Pardon?”
Reluctantly, Frost released her hand and stood. “Appears to me as though this particular kissing bough has been dedicated for our use, or at least that’s what I’m deciding, given its propinquity and position.”
He bit back a smile at her exclaimed, “Oh!”, hearing both disappointment—that he wasn’t making use of it now, perhaps?—and anticipation—that he had definite plans to in the future—if he didn’t miss his guess. Stretching, he freed the beribboned mistletoe. “I’ll just pocket this beauty and we’ll make use of it at a later date, shall we? Hmmm?”
Not that it would fit in his pocket, not without squashing it to a pulp, but she didn’t need to know that. So he tossed it on the settee, out of her reach.
“But that’s not how it works!”
Frost reseated himself, closer this time if that were possible. “I know full well how they work—”
“Of a certainty, a man like you would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Exasperated with her now, he nudged her chin until she faced him fully, noting the flush on her cheeks and the impressive gash slicing through one eyebrow and up part of her forehead…last night’s dangling curl had disguised the mark then this morning’s bonnet had done the same. Noting too the spark glinting in her blinking eyes.
Stupidly, he sliced one hand in front of her. Nothing. Not a flinch nor a flicker. “Never mind that. How did you lose your sight?” He suspected the several-year-old scar told the story, but wanted to hear it from her. “I gather you haven’t always been blind.”
“Nooo,” she sighed. “No. I…”
“I’m a brute for asking.” Or demanding. But he didn’t retract nor regret the need to know.
“No. Well, yes,” she said amid a soft smile then ducked as if afraid he’d seen too much. “But that isn’t why I hesitate.”
Abruptly, she jerked her head up and stared straight at him. More precisely, within half an inch of straight at him. “Do you know, this is the first time I’ve been away from home since the accident, other than traveling to physicians and such?”
Frost shifted until his face was framed directly between those pale emerald peepers. “Why is that?”