fists into his back as they reached the stream—her laughter still spilling over.
“You seem awfully happy for a woman about to find herself dumped in the stream,” he said.
“Because I know you won’t do it.”
“Is that so?” He pulled her down from his shoulder only to hold her in his arms. She had never felt lighter. Rose looked him in his sparkling steely grey eyes. That was most definitely the look of a man about to throw a woman in the water and enjoy every second of it.
Rose began to feel a little more panicked at the thought but couldn’t seem to stop laughing. Returning to the house dripping wet did not sound appealing.
He then began to count. With every number, he swayed her over the water—taunting her. “1…” Sway. “2…” Sway. “3…”
“Wait!” She yelled and clung to the lapels of his jacket, burying her head against his chest. “I’m sorry I took Thunder without your permission!” she shouted and spilled the words out quickly. It wasn’t in her nature to apologize, but she also didn’t wish to spend a miserable ride back soaked to the bone and shivering.
When he didn’t speak, she lifted her head and eyed him cautiously. His face was no longer playful. His eyes burned into hers. His intense gaze looked fierce and protective in a way that she’d never experienced before. The temperature was frigid but she couldn't feel the cold. There were so many emotions racing behind his eyes.
“Promise me you won’t ride Thunder again.” She couldn’t understand why he was so possessive of his horse. Had she not proved herself able to manage it?
But still, she sighed and said, “I promise.”
His brows twitched down. “Really? That simple?” No, it wasn’t simple for her. She hadn’t relented to a single person since she was a child. Why did she feel compelled to now? His hold tightened around her, sending an unexpected feeling of safety down her spine. She refused to acknowledge it. Feelings were not always reality. She kept herself safe. No one else.
“Why?” he asked.
She avoided his eyes and instead focused on the lock of hair that curled up a little at the nape of his neck. “Because I recognize fear when I see it.” Her fingers itched to touch that lock of hair. They were too close. She squirmed and pushed away from him. This time he gently set her down and released her. She faced him and tilted her face up to look him full in the eyes. “But what it is you’re afraid of, I still haven’t figured out.”
“Are you never afraid, Daphney?” Would he stop looking at her like that? She couldn’t breathe with his gaze holding her in that way. She turned her eyes away hoping he would do the same. He didn’t.
It took a great deal of false security, but she looked up in his eyes again. “I gave up being fearful a long time ago.” Or at least, she thought she had. But when he looked at her that way—like he could see through to her very soul and spot every weakness she possessed, she felt very much afraid.
In only two days this man had begun to undermine every wall and protection she had so carefully built around herself. Her heart ached to give in, but her mind refused.
“How?”
She looked down and adjusted her skirts. “If you have nothing to lose, you have nothing to fear.” She had lost Papa—the last person she had ever loved—when she was only a little girl. The pain, the vulnerability, the fear of living without a home, guardian, or food, had crippled her. That’s when she had learned to pick up her own sword. To never let anyone in. To never need anyone the way she had needed Papa.
Rose wasn’t that frightened little girl anymore. And she never would be again.
Carver stared at the frightened woman in front of him. Her hair danced wildly around her downcast face. Did she think she was fooling him? Maybe her glinting armor convinced others, but not him. She was every bit as broken and bruised as he was. What kind of life had she been forced to live that could have left her so terribly jaded?
But to ask her would mean balancing a very fine line of confidence. If he asked her about her pain, she would have every right to ask him about his. She turned away and walked toward the trees. He let her go.
The cool sharp breeze felt good against his skin. It worked to soothe the deep ache he felt as well as the stifling warmth he had begun to feel around Daphney. What was he doing? He couldn’t actually be falling for the woman, could he? How ridiculous.
He shoved his hand through his hair and eyed the lush evergreens as he adjusted and readjusted his footing. But his mind would not let go of Daphney. She was literally being paid to spend time with him. She was a criminal. It wouldn’t do to go losing himself in an infatuation with a woman who was going to leave in a week with an enormous amount of his money in her pockets. Never mind the fact that she was breathtakingly beautiful, felt like a balm to his heart, and made him want to smile more than anyone else had in years.
None of that can matter.
What he needed was to strike a friendly balance with the woman. One where they got along well enough to convince his family of their relationship, but keep enough distance so that she didn’t end up in his arms with him pouring out his heart at every playful exchange.
After a few minutes of much needed space, Carver made his way to where Daphney hid behind a large tree. Her faded green skirts peeked out from behind the trunk of bare oak and he could see her hands breaking a stem of grass into tiny pieces. He walked around the tree and rested his shoulder on the trunk beside her.
A friendly balance…maybe even a harmless flirtation?
“You don’t have to hide. I won’t dump you in the water today,” he said with a smile.
Her eyes met his, and a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. “That’s a relief to a woman who cannot swim.” It was clearly a joke. The water wasn’t more than a foot deep. But he saw a rare opportunity to learn more about her and couldn’t resist.
“Can you really not swim?”