Primal Promise

Thirteen*

Firm arms wrapped around her as she stumbled and she found herself looking up at Jameson's smiling face.

"Hello again." His voice was familiar and warm, but after the dream she'd had, it made her blush.

"Hello, Mr Holt." She kept her eyes as averted as possible. She knew his penchant for looking at her intently and she was deeply afraid he would sense somehow that she'd been dreaming of riding him like a Kentucky Derby champion.

She extricated herself and put space between them. "I hope it's alright that I'm here. In the... the woods I mean. I was just leaving." She began to walk away, hoping he wouldn't follow because he made her so damn nervous. At the same time, part of her wanted him to, craved to be near him. It wasn't sensible at all.

"Of course." He moved to match her stride. "You can do anything you want..." he paused. "Is everything alright?"

She waved the question away. "Oh, I was just being stupid. I sat down by a tree and it was so peaceful and quiet that I guess I dozed off. I must have been dreaming when Mr. Aldwin, the younger one, woke me up. I'm still a little off-balance I guess."

"I see. Did he wake you with a kiss like Sleeping Beauty?"

"Oh, Lord no!" She gasped at the suggestion and looked up at him, noting his teasing smile. "I-I wouldn't want him to."

"Well, you're a rarity then. Charles is very handsome. The ladies are prone to do that swoon thing." He clasped his hands beside his jaw and sighed like an extra in Bye Bye Birdie, his lashes all aflutter and his smile simpering.

Without thought, she swung out and hit him in the arm with the backs of her fingers. "Don't be ridiculous. He's not even my type." She smiled despite herself at his ga-ga girl act and subsequent rubbing of his arm as if she could have possibly done him injury.

He smiled slowly and her knees went a bit liquid. "So you do have a type. What type is that then?" He folded his arms, blocking the path out of the wood quite effectively, sidestepping when she did, obviously not intending to let her leave until she told him.

"I don't know." She frowned a little. "It's wrong to have said something like that. I'm sorry." She bit at her lip. "I think it's very inconsiderate to judge someone by their looks. I should get to know him. Once I do, maybe he might possibly turn out to be my type."

Truth was, it wasn't just his pretty-boy looks that had put her off, but his behavior. He acted like she had some kind of disease he'd catch if he touched her. Still, she'd already insulted his friend enough. She didn't think it wise to add insult to injury.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. His voice turned to almost a growl. "He's my best friend...So I ask you not to make me have to kick his ass for trying to steal you from under my nose."

"Mr Holt, please." She chuckled faintly. He was being so odd. She almost let herself sink into talking down about herself again, reminding him that someone as beautiful as Charles Aldwin would never want someone like her anyway, but Herb's words crept back into her mind and she remembered she was supposed to be acting as if this were all real. "As if he could." She smiled in a way she hoped looked alluring. The tension in him did not abate though.

"Contessa..." He spoke without much volume, but it rumbled like thunder through her. "Do not tease me. I am nowhere near strong enough to bear it."

"I didn't mean to tease you, Mr. Holt. I just..." She sighed and slipped past him, sliding her hands into her pockets. "I can't do this. I'm not her."

"Not... who?" He asked as if fearing the answer.

"The self-assured woman who can banter and flirt and has a line of broken hearts in her wake." She shrugged. "Someone worthy of being your opponent. I can't do it. I don't know why you asked me out here, but I know it wasn't because you're smitten like the others were implying."