That didn’t mean she couldn’t slam it shut.
Today’s advance was no guarantee that he or William John wouldn’t, in some way, unintentionally step on her toes and prompt her to step back.
She’d agreed to help them and clearly understood both why she needed to and what was at stake. But ladies could always change their minds.
When it came to her and inventing, he felt like he was blundering in the dark—a feeling he didn’t appreciate.
He’d started plotting a campaign to tease more insights from her when the soft swish of silk reached his ears.
Surprised, he looked up—and realized that his wandering feet had set him on course for the entrance to the rose garden.
Even as, blinking, he focused on the heavily shadowed arched entrance, now a mere yard away, Felicia, her eyes on the ground, walked purposefully out, under the arch.
She walked directly into him.
“Oh!”
He’d had a second to halt and brace himself.
She all but bounced off him.
Before she could stagger back, he grasped her upper arms and steadied her.
She sucked in a breath, and tension streaked through her.
Ignoring the rush of physical awareness that raced over him, he ducked his head and looked into her face. “It’s all right. It’s only me—Rand.”
She blinked at him, her eyes luminous in the semi-dark; the unexpected collision had affected her, too—in her wide eyes, he saw the same awareness that was prickling under his skin.
Then she let out the breath she’d held in a soft exhalation; the line of her shoulders eased, and she raised a slim hand to her throat. She looked into his eyes with transparent relief. “My apologies. I wasn’t looking.”
“No need to apologize. I didn’t see you coming, either.” Yet he’d realized in time that, had he wished to, he could have avoided the collision, but that was something he saw no reason to mention.
“Well, then. Thank you.” She sounded faintly breathless.
She stepped back, and, reluctantly, he released her and lowered his arms.
She stared at him for a second; he cursed the shadows that fell over her face and prevented him from reading her expression.
Then she tensed a touch and shifted as if intending to step past him.
Before she could bid him goodnight and leave, he reached out, looped her arm with his, and smoothly turned her around, effectively anchoring her beside him as he stepped toward the rose garden. “Please—walk with me.” Pausing under the arch, he gestured down the flagstone walk. “It’s a beautiful night, and your roses are in bloom.”
Short of wrestling free—something he felt fairly certain she wouldn’t do—she had little option but to fall in by his side. She humphed and dryly replied, “So I’ve noticed.”
But her feet obligingly followed his.
“Have you been strolling long?” he asked.
“No. My room was stuffy, so I came out to get some air.”
Greatly daring, he loosened the guard on his tongue. “Am I allowed to say I’m glad?”
She looked down, then, in a plainly curious tone, asked, “Why?”
His face shrouded by the deepening shadows, he grinned and gave her half the answer. “Because I’m curious. After our previous discussion in this garden, having learned of your antipathy to inventing and inventors and your very sound reasons for that, I was...shall we say, taken aback?...to realize that, regardless of your stance, you are very definitely an inventor, too.” He paused, his senses confirming she was listening, and that although she’d stiffened slightly at his reference to her talent, she hadn’t tried to halt or pull away. His voice even, his tone intrigued but not demanding, he went on, “If you’ll consent to sharing your thoughts with me, what I would particularly like to know is why you have, apparently doggedly, kept yourself out of the workshop and away from all inventing until now.”
That afternoon, while they’d been working on the modifications to the pistons’ feed lines, William John had confirmed that he hadn’t known of his sister’s abilities, and that as far as he could remember, she’d never been a collaborator in any of his or his father’s inventions in even the smallest way—indeed, that she’d never previously shown the slightest interest in any invention whatsoever.