Heart's Desire Read Free

gut-wrenching way he’d missed her. Which was, of course, ridiculous. Her life was a whirlwind of parties and travel and Society events. The opera and fancy balls and tours of the Continent. Why would she miss the tiny village of Halstead? Clearly she didn’t, as she hadn’t visited in so long.
    He briefly pressed his lips together to keep them from spilling out the fact that missing her was a pain he lived with daily. Then, determined not to appear like a tongue-tied nincompoop, he forced a light laugh . “And I’ve missed you, too, Dimples.”
    His use of the childhood nickname he’d bestowed upon her kindled mischief in her eyes. “I’m delighted to hear it … Dusty.”
    “Ah, retribution.”
    “Of course. If you drag out Dimples … ” She shrugged.
    “I’m not always dusty, you know.”
    “Of course not. Just like you’re never stodgy.”
    He arranged his features in a severe frown. “I’m not now, nor have I ever been the least bit stodgy.”
    “Ha! Says the gentleman wearing an expression that resembles a thundercloud.”
    “It’s not that I am stodgy but that you were always far too mischievous. One of us had to be sensible.”
    “You never minded when my mischief included pilfering biscuits and tarts from our kitchen.”
    “Of course not. Because Pierre’s tarts were the finest in the kingdom. I wasn’t nearly so fond of your mischief when it involved pies made from mud. Or trying to squeeze myself into those dastardly tiny chairs at your tea table.”
    “You fit in those chairs just fine.”
    “Not when I was twelve ,” he countered darkly.
    A giggle erupted from her, one she quickly covered with a cough. “The chairs weren’t too small. You were simply too big.”
    “I completely agree.”
    She pursed her lips, drawing his attention to her plump mouth. Definitely a mistake. He forced his gaze back to her eyes. Unfortunately that, too, proved an error as he sank into those humor-filled aquamarine depths as if they were an endless blue well. “ Humph ,” she muttered. “I suppose you believe you won that exchange.”
    “I know I won that exchange.”
    She hiked up a brow. “And I suppose you intend to l or d that over my head.”
    “For as long as possible,” he agreed.
    “You realize you’re all but begging for retribution.”
    He gave a careless wave of his hand. “I’m not concerned about any retribution threatened by a wisp of a girl named Dimples.”
    “Indeed? Clearly you’ve forgotten the afternoon I dunked you in the lake.”
    He’d spent more hours than he could count attempting to forget that day. To absolutely no avail. “Clearly you’v e forgotten that I dunked you back.” The image of a drenched fourteen-year-old Callie, her wet muslin gown rendered nearly transparent, clinging to her as if it were painted on , slammed into his mind. He’d been sixteen. And had nearly swallowed his tongue. It had taken precisely one heartbeat to know that the battle he’d been waging against his burgeoning feelings for her was a fight well and truly lost. That he could no longer pretend that what he felt for her was in the least bit brotherly. That he no longer just loved her but was deeply, desperately, hopelessly in love with her.
    “Actually, you dunked me twice ,” she said with an elegant sniff. “Most ungentlemanly of you.”
    “You slipped the second time. And I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman.” Bloody hell, if he were a gentleman — of the peerage sort — he’d be able to court the sister of a duchess. And if he were a true gentleman in any sense of the word, he wouldn’t stand in mortal fear of snatching her against him and putting out this damn ed fire she’d lit in him a decade ago.
    She waved that away with an elegant flick of her wrist. “I slipped because I stepped on a rock — which I wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t tossed me in the lake in the first place.”
    “You dared me to do so, Dimples.” He shook his head at her folly.