Relief flooded her. “So you do want to kiss me?”
“Hell, Serena.” He surged to his feet and retreated, staring at her as if she might bite him. With a soft crunch, his heel crushed the sprig of mistletoe. “You don’t understand.”
She remained on the bench, watching him. “So make me understand.”
“Devil take you, this isn’t a conversation a man has with a close friend’s sister.”
She worked to keep her voice steady and said what she knew in her heart to be true. “You want me.”
“You’re a pretty girl. Nothing could be more natural.”
Why did she feel like she wasn’t getting the whole story? “Nothing.”
Her fingers itched to order his hair, to smooth the lines of discontent marking his face. But she stayed where she was, struggling to make sense of his reluctance. He’d set off from the stables, intending to kiss her. Then he’d kissed her. Now it seemed he’d give her no more kisses.
Serena sat up straight and summoned all her courage. “I see that kissing isn’t enough for you. For a sophisticated man, it’s all too schoolboy and schoolgirl.”
“Don’t talk rot.” His hunted expression intensified. “I don’t even know why you want me to chase you, when you’re so set on marrying Paul. He’s the one you should meet secretly. He’s the one you should drive mad with kisses.”
“I told you why.”
He turned away to stare out at the lake. Ruler-straight shoulders betrayed bristling tension. “You wanted to test your wiles on a man who doesn’t matter, before you use them on the man you want.”
Humiliation coiled in her belly as her hands gripped the edge of the bench. “That sounds horribly shabby.” When he didn’t respond, she burst out, “If kissing me offends your high standards, why on earth did you agree in the first place?”
Without looking at her, he set his hands against the window frame. “Serena, are you going to marry Paul?”
The coiling in her stomach turned out to be snakes with fangs. “He hasn’t asked me.”
“He will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. He told me.”
Of course he had. For heaven’s sake, Paul had all but told her. If she’d offered one word of encouragement last night, he’d have whisked her off somewhere private and proposed. “I’ve wanted to marry Paul all my life.”
Giles finally faced her. He looked stern, and years older than twenty-six. “In that case, it’s wrong to kiss me.”
She flinched from that stark assessment. “You knew all this when we started.”
“Yes, well, it turns out that I have more of a conscience than I knew.” His smile was bitter. “Paul’s a friend, and you’re an innocent, and all three of us deserve better than this.”
Rising on trembling legs, she shot Giles a glare of genuine dislike. While inside, razors cut her to ribbons. “So that’s it?”
He gestured an apology. “I’m afraid it is.”
“That’s…cruel.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s the only thing I can do.”
She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “You’re so blasted stubborn.”
Something that looked like sorrow flashed in his eyes. But it vanished before she could be sure. “I expect you hate me now.”
Serena was angry and piqued and cringing with mortification. But the truth was that when she examined her emotions, she didn’t hate him. What she mainly felt was piercing regret that his exquisite kisses were out of bounds. Which was lunatic when she meant to accept Paul’s proposal on Boxing Day.
Her silence made him sigh. “I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”