It would come as a shock to no one to discover that he’d had her heart for years. Even Rhys couldn’t doubt that. But it had always been a friendship kind of love.
Now it was so much more.
He swept his fingers across the back of her neck and Bella gasped.
“Are my hands cold?”
“N-no” was all she could manage. Her skin tingled where he’d touched her and a ribbon of warmth spread out from that spot and slid all the way down her back.
She felt his other hand come up and he stretched one arm over her shoulder, then the other. Cool metal landed gently against her neck and then his fingers were fumbling at her nape again, brushing against the wisps of hair that had escaped her coiffure.
He’d hooked a necklace and the thin chain tickled against her skin.
“There,” he said softly, pressing the flat of his hand to the curve between her neck and shoulder. When he let go, the chain slid down, almost to her cleavage.
Bella lifted the pendant and tilted it up. A daisy flower, its petals made of opal and its center a round of etched gold.
“Will it suit you? Daisies are your favorite flower, aren’t they?”
“I love daisies.” But they weren’t her favorite flower. Lily of the valley was her favorite and always had been, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.
He came around to stand in front of her and took her hands in his. “They’re as sweet and lovely as you are.”
“Thank you.” For a long awkward moment, she couldn’t get any more words out. She struggled so long that his encouraging smile faltered. “Rhys—”
“Arry, I know you’re nervous about the speech. But don’t be. We practiced and you’ll pull it off beautifully.” He glanced behind her at the clock on the wall. “You should head down. It’s almost time.”
“We should head down.” She’d come looking for him because she could not imagine speaking to all the guests from that dais without being able to look out and focus on his face.
He reached up and cupped her chin, tilted her head gently, and stared down at her as tenderly as he’d ever looked at her in the decade they’d known each other.
Bella held her breath. Her gaze flitted down to his lips. This was it. This was the moment of her very first kiss. There would never ever be another and there was no man she would ever want to kiss more than Rhys Forester.
“You,” he said emphatically, “are so much more than you know. More clever, more talented, more beautiful than you even yet realize. I hope when the Season comes a dozen men tell you so. There will be many vying for your heart and your hand.”
No! Everything in her shouted the word. A dozen men didn’t interest her in the least.
Only one. This one.
“Don’t break too many hearts, my sweet lovely friend.” He smiled again and bent forward.
Bella leaned toward him too, stood a little straighter, and stretched up to meet his kiss.
But rather than touch his mouth to hers, he pressed his lips to her forehead, lingered a moment, and then pulled back.
“Return to the party.” He spoke gently, less of a command than an encouragement to do something he knew she dreaded. He dropped his hand from her chin and took a step back and to the side, clearing a path for her to the library door.
“Are you not escorting me down?” The words came out far sharper than she wished, but her heart ached. There was so much she wished to say, so many feelings burning inside her, but now she feared there would never be an opportunity to confess any of them.
“There’s someone I must speak to and then I’ll join the celebration. I promise.”
Bella had no notion who he planned to speak to, but there were half a dozen guests that Rhys knew as well as she did. A cousin of Bella’s had been one of his university classmates and the Debley twins, who’d idolized him when they were girls, seemed just as smitten now.
Reluctantly, Bella nodded and started toward the library threshold. “If you’re not about when Mama calls me to the dais, I’m coming to find you.”
He laughed, a shallower sound than his usual chuckle. “I have no doubt.”
“Come, Bella. We can’t dally any longer,” her mother said as she waved Bella’s father away from the punch bowl. He loved the lemony concoction, but sweets never agreed with him. “We told guests the party would break up at three and you’d say a few words before we sent everyone on their way.”
“Soon, Mama.” Bella twisted the daisy pendant between her fingers and stood on her tiptoes to look out past a cluster of guests onto Hillcrest’s garden paths that were lined with tall box hedges. It wasn’t quite a maze, but there were places to sit and a few guests had wandered off to rest on shady benches or converse privately among the flowers.
She’d seen Rhys come out of the house nearly half an hour ago, but Vicar Eames had engaged her in conversation and she’d been unable to get away.
“My girl,” her mother said with barely restrained irritation, “it’s rude to make everyone wait.”
“I must find Rhys.”
“Arabella.” Her mother let out a long-suffering sigh and closed her eyes. “When the Season begins you won’t be able to spend so much time with Lord Huntley.”
“Precisely, Mama, which is why I intend to do so now.” Bella didn’t wait for a reply before moving past her mother and heading for the tall hedges. She had a hunch she’d find him there.
The Debley twins were sitting on one of the stone benches, and looked up at her guiltily as she approached. “We were just planning to return to the party, Miss Prescott. Daisy felt a bit fatigued,” one of the twins said while gesturing to the other.
“I’m much better now,” Daisy insisted.
“Good.” Bella managed a smile while glancing each way down the hedge rows. “Have you seen Lord Huntley, by any chance?”
The dark-haired twins exchanged a glance before Dorothy said, “We did a while back. He went that way.”
Bella didn’t have to go far before she heard voices. A woman and then a gentleman’s raspy reply. Laughter filtered through the leafy wall of the tall hedges, a low and resonant rumble so infectious it tickled in her own belly.
Rhys’s laugh.
She picked up her pace, lifting the skirt of her gown to keep from tripping. The daisy pendant bounced at the base of her throat. As she drew closer, she heard a feminine moan. She rounded the corner and bile rose in the back of her throat. Blood rushed so fiercely in her ears it blocked out every other sound.
Rhys shot up from the bench where he’d been reclining, nearly on top of the redheaded widow next to him. Lady Nelson pushed her skirts down and began fussing with her hair. She kept her eyes focused on Rhys and couldn’t manage a single glance Bella’s way.
Stumbling back, Bella clutched at her throat. She couldn’t breathe.
“Arry—”
“No. Don’t call me that.” It was a silly nickname. “What a childish fool I must seem to you.”
He lifted a hand toward her. “Never a fool.”
“A child, then?” Bella glared at Lady Nelson, who’d stood and composed herself.
“No.”
The moment Rhys stepped toward her, Bella had to escape. She couldn’t bear to look at him, to hear his voice. She didn’t want explanations or apology. Getting away and trying to forget what she’d seen was all she needed.