To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

“No, but something will soon.”

His brows drew together. “What exactly do you mean by that?” Clearly they did not share the same understanding of the word something.

A shaky breath fell from her parted lips. “He’s going to propose tomorrow. There’s no doubt in my mind. And”—there was so much tension built up around Elizabeth. It was getting to Oliver too, making him feel as jumpy as she looked—“after he proposes. He will…kiss me. I’ve never been kissed before.”

“And?” he managed to mutter despite the fact that all of the air had been snatched from the room.

“And so…I came here hoping that just maybe…you would teach me.” Shock ripped through him.

Oliver’s hands dropped from the linen and he took one wide, very wide, step away from Elizabeth. Brows pinching together, he turned a half step away from her, facing the fire and scraping his hands over his face. He groaned into his palms half disbelieving and half angry at what h

e was hearing.

“Oliver—”

“Let me get this straight,” he dropped his hands and turned narrowed eyes at the woman who still looked much too beautiful dressed in a hat and gentleman’s jacket. “You stole a pair of breeches, recklessly rode on horseback through the night to my home, risked your reputation and your relationship with Hastings—to ask me to prepare you for a kiss with your future husband?”

She blinked her wide blue eyes at him. “My first kiss,” she said as if it made all of this in any way more acceptable.

He wanted to groan again from the injustice of it all. Not only was he going to have to live without the woman he loved for the rest of his life, but he was going to know exactly what it would feel like to hold her and kiss her before he had to hand her off to another man.

No, correction: he wasn’t going to know those things because he wasn’t going to kiss her.

“Lizzie, you do realize that if I do what you ask, it would no longer be your first kiss when”—he could barely bring himself to say it—“Hastings kisses you.” If word ever got back to the viscount, Oliver would certainly be called out to meet the man at dawn.

Actually, no he wouldn’t…because he wasn’t going to kiss her!

Elizabeth cleared her throat and tucked a finger into her cravat in attempt to loosen it. The sight drew an unamused laugh from Oliver because he knew the suffocating feeling she was experiencing all too well.

“I realize that,” she said. “But…I’m comfortable with that outcome.”

“You are?” his words came out strangled. “Why?”

She swallowed, clearly as unnerved by this whole situation as he was. And then her eyes met his, lit by the firelight and conveying an unspoken message in that wordless language of theirs. “Because, in a strange way, I feel that my first kiss belongs to you anyway.” It was official, he couldn’t breathe and might never again. He couldn’t move. And he was almost certain his heart had stopped. The tension between them felt strong and terrifying.

Had she just…declared herself to him? Did Elizabeth love him as much as he loved her?

Fear gripped him. Strangled his thoughts. Oh, how much he wanted Elizabeth. He wanted her smiles and her laughter and spirited joy for the rest of his days. But so much of him was terrified that one day he would snap. One day he would break and he would wake up with the same temper his father had. That he would be every bit as worthless as Frank Turner.

“Elizabeth…I don’t think I can do this for you.”

He watched her eyes close, pressing shut against his rejection. She deserved to know that he wasn’t rejecting her, but himself. But he knew that if he told her the truth, she would deny it. She would believe in his goodness of character as she always did and convince him of something that could be harmful to her in the end. He wouldn’t do that.

Her eyes shot open again, an angry blue fire glowing within them. “Fine.” She thrust her hands in her pockets as if she had been doing it her whole life. She jerked her shoulders up and down in a violent shrug. “If you’re not up to the task, then just forget it. I thought you were supposed to be the most fantastic kisser in London but I suppose I was mistaken. I’ll find someone else to help me.” Her statements, each one more ridiculous than the last, were almost too much for him. And something about the way her cheeks flamed when she was angry never ceased to grip him with attraction.

“First of all, I am a fantastic kisser, so you weren’t wrong to come to me. Second, where are you going to find someone else to tutor you in the middle of the country before tomorrow?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere? Oh, in the pasture perhaps?”

“Perhaps!”

“Or in a tavern? That’s an idea. You could simply pop in and ask a parlor full of men which one would like to kiss you.” His animated suggestions were making fumes all but pour out of Elizabeth’s ears.

“I’m sure someone would oblige me.”

“Oh, I’m certain they would.” He was smiling at her ridiculousness. Elizabeth was a bit wild but she wasn’t stupid. And finding a complete stranger in a tavern and asking him to kiss her was not something she would do.