Page 39 of Juliet's Touch

Since she was easy to talk to and he truly wanted to know the answer, he asked a question so bold that he shocked himself. “Do you know about my relationship to the Becketts?”

“I know that you are one of Lord Chesterhill’s sons. And that you are a pugilist from London. I also know that you are fun to play charades with, but I suppose the latter isn’t what you asked.”

Unable to stop them, the corners of Eric’s lips curved upward. Since Juliet’s face lit up, she didn’t seem to be horrified by what he knew was a disconcerting smile.

“Mayhap next time we should be on the same team,” she said.

A grown man did not leap about like an excited child, no matter how much he wanted to. “Mayhap,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I dare say, you know a lot about me, too,” she said.

Not nearly enough because he wanted to know everything. Her favorite color. Her favorite flower. He’d wager that she loved to dance, and in his limited experience with dancing, the social activity had a lot in common with boxing.

“Oh?” he asked.

“You know that I ran away and am hiding from my fiancé and parents.”

He ached to tell her that he would protect her from Riley, but it seemed his earlier courage had already fled, leaving him an inarticulate imbecile. Oh, well.It had been grand while it lasted.

“Seeing as how we’ve learned so much about each other in such a short time, we are destined to be great friends.” She worried her plump, kissable lip. “We must keep each other’s secrets after all.”

True. But he still had so many more secrets to disclose. More than any gentleman should. Then again, he was no proper gentleman.

“Oh, my,” Juliet cried as her foot slid out from beneath her.

Eric’s arm shot out, halting her tumble. He spun to face her, and then, clutching her hips, he steadied her.

Snowflakes landed on her blinking lashes as she peered up at him. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

Wanting nothing more than to stare into her eyes as he held her, Eric reluctantly lowered his gaze to study the heels on her dainty boots. Two things were clear. One: Women should not be expected to navigate slippery terrain in such impractical shoes. Two: A gentleman should offer aid to any woman unfortunate enough to wear said shoes.

“My boots are much more suited to this weather,” he said. “So, may I offer you extra support?” He held his breath, hoping she would accept his assistance.

“You are so chivalrous.” She clasped his forearm, sending a bolt of heat straight to his heart. This woman’s touch was akin to a choir of angels singing hallelujah beneath a rainbow on a sunny day.

Taking his responsibility seriously, Eric tucked her mittened hand against him and balanced. Although they took their time, they reached the house much too soon for his liking.