“Would you rather play coy?” He opened the gate to the pew and stepped into the small box to sit beside her. Immediately the echoing space of the parish church shrank to suffocating narrowness. Her nincompoop heart performed a drunken jig in her chest.
She scooped in a shallow breath, sharp with frankincense and old, damp stone and made herself speak. “Why on earth does everyone think I’ve set my cap at Paul Garside?”
With a mocking smile, Giles set his hat on the seat beside him. “Dear me, I have no idea.”
His sarcasm made her wince. “Hmm.”
Blindly she stared toward the altar, decorated for Advent with an embroidered violet cloth and holly wreaths. After a long time—or what felt like a long time—Giles murmured, “There’s no need to be reticent. He’s well and truly reconciled to being ca
ught.”
She wanted to tell this overweening lout to mind his own business, but to her surprise she responded honestly. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Giles’s expression was unreadable. She should be used to that by now. “Trust me.”
Serena told herself not to respond. She’d said enough. More than enough. Giles and she had never been confidantes. In fact, however constant a presence he’d been in her life, they’d never progressed much beyond wary acquaintances.
But some imp inside her remained determined to pursue this mortifying conversation. “I’d…I’d like to think he might do at least some of the chasing.”
“Just as a matter of pride.”
“Exactly.”
Characteristic irony twisted his lips. “I’m sure a clever girl like you can snare a fellow who’s already set on having you.”
Self-derision edged her laugh. “Then you have more faith in me than I have. When it comes to feminine wiles, I’m a complete novice. Whereas you two have spent the last few years playing the rake in London.”
Amusement lit Giles’s dark eyes. “I take umbrage at that.”
“I can’t see why. It’s true.”
“And how the devil do you know that?”
“Frederick is indiscreet in his cups.”
His laugh brushed across her skin like velvet and made every fine hair stand up. “Damn.”
“Paul is used to sophisticated women.” As her blush heated to fire, she squared her shoulders. She may as well finish this awful discussion. Retreat no longer seemed like an option. “I’ve never even kissed a man.”
Giles appeared almost as shocked at her confession as she was that she’d made it. Fleetingly he stopped looking like Lucifer sulking in the underworld, and instead became the boy who was a mere five years older than she was. “Serena…”
“There. Now you know the dreadful truth.”
Giles had always been something of a mystery to her—this was the longest time they’d ever spent alone together—but his reaction now was particularly cryptic. His marked eyebrows drew together, more in consideration than disapproval, she thought. “You know, perhaps I could help.”
Her lips turned down. “How?”
She had the uncanny feeling that he waged some battle with himself. When he met her eyes, she drowned in the dark depths. “I could show you how to kiss a man.”
Serena hardly heard. Blood pounded in her ears, and she felt giddy. She had the oddest urge to lean forward and rest her head on that broad chest. Just rest.
Which was mad, when Giles had always been too disagreeable and difficult to be a comfortable companion.
“I’m sorry.” Avoiding her eyes, he picked up his hat. “I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“Suggested what?” She blinked, forcing herself back to the real world where she wanted Paul, and Giles was just an annoying interloper. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Oh.”