“Where would you like to go today, Miss Thorne?” he asked. He looked over at her and smiled. His smile really was quite stunning, and she hoped that after she’d looked at it for ten or fifteen years, it would still make her heart race the way it did now.
He wanted her; she could tell. It was as plain as the nose on his face.
“Ribbons,” Claire reminded him. “We were going to buy some ribbons.”
“Oh yes, ribbons. Now I remember.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “How many ribbons must a lady own in order to be satisfied with her ribbon purchases?”
Claire forced herself not to grin. “It really depends on how the lady will be using the ribbons.”
“Particularly, what ways are there?”
“Hats, dresses, shoes. We might wear them in our hair. Then there are our underthings.”
Margaret cleared her throat again.
“Margaret,” Claire scolded. “You really should do something for that cough.”
Margaret cut her eyes at Claire. “Oh, you’re right. I’ll be certain to tell your father about it.”
Finn snorted. Goodness, he was handsome. His sandy blond hair had been disturbed by the wind, and he had a fine shadow on his face. He looked rather… rugged.
“I’d give just about anything to know what’s on your mind,” he murmured close to Claire’s ear.
“I was thinking of how handsome you are, if you must know.” Heat crept up her cheeks at his stark look of need, which nearly brimmed from his eyes.
“You think I’m handsome?” he asked softly.
“Dashing. Deliberately devilish. Those dimples make you look much more innocent than you are, I’m afraid. A regular wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
The carriage rolled to a stop. Finn stepped out and moved to hand Claire out of the carriage. Margaret went to follow. “Wait here, please, Margaret. We’ll only be a moment.”
Margaret harrumphed. “I sincerely doubt your father would be happy with my doing that.”
“My father isn’t here.”
Margaret raised her nose into the air. “Exactly.”
Claire rolled her eyes as Margaret descended from the coach. She waited for them to take a few steps, and then she followed them into the small storefront.
Claire jumped when Finn’s fingers reached down to tangle with hers briefly. She looked up at him, and the twinkle in his eye took her completely by surprise.
Margaret ambled away from them and pretended to be perusing some fabric, while Finn asked the proprietress for ribbons. “Where might I find enough ribbons to keep my bride happy?”
Claire leaned close to his arm and whispered. “
I don’t really need any ribbons.”
He whispered very dramatically back down to her, “Oh no, my Miss Thorne, you need enough ribbons that I could dress you in them.” His eyes darkened a bit, as a flush rose across his cheeks. “Never mind,” he murmured. He stepped away from her.
But Claire followed him doggedly. “I just wanted to spend some time alone with you.”
***
Her statement hit him directly in the groin. Finn barely withheld a feral growl. It wouldn’t do to disgrace them both here in the store. Not with Margaret looking on and every other lady in town also shopping there, it appeared.
Finn wanted to be alone with Claire more than he needed his next breath. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Then he winked at her and walked away. He had to walk away. If he didn’t, he’d have no choice but to make good on his taunt.
She was going to marry him. That much had been determined. For some reason, the thought didn’t make him want to run away, not the way thoughts of marriage normally did. In fact, he wanted to run toward her. He just didn’t want to do it right now.