He had to learn to temper his reaction. Not everyone was like him—a horrible person. “I find the patch is more rakish and suits me better.”
“Fair enough.” Elizabeth shrugged. “I like you just as you are, but you might be twice as handsome with a glass eye.”
“Given time or enough reason, I’ll inquire to a much-lauded glass blower in London. Mr. Cecil Carrington’s shop is full of exquisite and unique things. Perhaps he could fashion something for me.”
“No hurry.” She smiled and it reflected in her eyes. “I’ve grown rather attached to the patch.”
“Oh.” The sudden sensation of falling assailed him, and Brand began to panic. None of this was in the plan. Him having feelings for this woman had not been part of the bargain. Yet here he was, staring stupidly at her as if he had no brain. Not having the words to respond to her, he wrapped a hand about her nape and brought her to him. Her arms went easily around his shoulders. “I’m so glad I met you at that fair,” he murmured and then claimed her lips in a kiss so intense he hoped it conveyed what he wanted to say but didn’t have the courage to even admit to himself.
Elizabeth matched and mimicked his overtures until he was the one who wrenched away before he tossed her down, right there on the sand and claimed her body. She murmured a protest. “Why did you stop?”
“If I don’t, I’ll have to plunge into the sea to cool my ardor.” His honesty surprised him, for wasn’t bedding her what he’d angled for as soon as he’d met her? Now, suddenly, he wanted… more, and he wished her first time to be somewhat special. With a shaky breath, he stepped away. “Also, I’ve been invited to a rout at Lord Nelson’s home in two days. Would you accompany me?”
“How wonderful!” She clasped her hands together as her eyes lit with excitement. “I’d be ever so pleased. And I can wear the exquisite gown you gave me.”
Brand continued his descent into apparent madness, for this one little thing made her so happy that he craved doing something that would keep her forever in such a state. “Good.” He shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Now, I’m going to escort you home, because if I don’t, you’ll think me the biggest rake in Ipswich.”
“Aren’t you?” She winked as she left his side to retrieve her belongings.
“Perhaps.” Yet… he suddenly didn’t want that moniker any longer. What the devil is happening to me? He was only with her to win a wager, nothing more.
Right? He didn’t know any longer, and what was more, he continued to fall.