Then he saw her face. Bewilderment, irritation and the fear that it was happening again mixed inside him in a swirling confusion. Devil take it, but she looked ready to bolt.Not again, he thought, clamping his arm to his side to trap her hand against him and prevent her flight. It had been bad enough when Cynthia had fled, and that had only been during a small affair at Westerley. His pride could not endure another woman running from him, and certainly not in the midst of a London ball.He realized that she was not looking at him. Her fear seemed to be focused on the crowd around them.At least it's not me, he thought. Relief coursed through him, easing the tension in his back. Still, it would not do to have her run from his side as if he were a monster, or she a fool. He glanced around, seeking the source of her distress, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He looked back down at her.Fear lay stark in a pale sheen on her skin. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths, and her eyes had lightened to the color of weak tea.
What do You think about Under The Kissing Bough (2012)?
