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Still, she was grateful he was here, if a tad disappointed to find him just as handsome today as he’d been yesterday. She only hoped she did not embarrass herself.

“The ground here is rather uneven,” Lily said as she drew up to the nearest tree, its branches loaded with ripe, red apples. “We’ll have to take turns picking while the other holds the ladder steady.”

“Right,” Frederick said, propping the ladder against the trunk of the tree. “Shall I do the picking first?”

Lily shrugged. “As you wish.”

He looked at her, a smile curving his lips as if he were happy to be here, and Lily could do nothing but stare, transfixed by his bright azure eyes and thick black hair, glinting like onyx beneath the late morning sun.

She tore her gaze away and cleared her throat, her skin flushing with a prickly sort of heated tingles that surely meant nothing good. “Basket,” she said abruptly and rather too loudly. “We’ll need a basket, won’t we?”

She bustled away and returned a moment later with a large woven basket she kept stored in the barn.

Avoiding Frederick’s gaze, she situated the basket beside the ladder, ensuring it was as balanced as it could be on the uneven patch of grassy ground.

“There,” she said, rising again. “It’s all ready for you.”

She looked at him expectantly, and he took his cue, climbing up the ladder until the lowest branches were within his reach.

Lily did her best not to ogle him as he made his way up, but she was only human, after all, and he possessed a magnificent backside. His fawn-colored trousers fit him to perfection, worn-in but well-made, and well-suited to a day of labor, as were his blue cotton shirt and dove gray shortcoat.

Surprisingly, he seemed just as comfortable in these simpler garments as he did in his elegant Town attire.

He looked just as handsome, too, if not more so, and for one illogical moment she imagined what it would be like to spend a different sort of day with him beneath the shade of an apple tree.

A lazy day spent stretched out on a soft woolen blanket, trading teasing caresses and apple-flavored kisses.

The soft thud of an apple landing in the basket broke her from her improper reverie, and she swallowed hard.

Another apple landed in the basket, followed by a third, and then a fourth, and with each muted thud, the fantasy retreated, batted back by reality.

“Have you always lived here at the inn?” Frederick asked, and the sudden question startled her, making her jump.

She didn’t usually like to talk about herself, but if it kept her thoughts from straying to soft blankets and warm kisses, she would happily answer his questions. Within reason, of course.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head, though of course he couldn’t see the gesture. “I lived in London before coming to live here about two years ago.”

“And what made you decide to leave London?”

Well, she certainly had no intention of answering that question, at least not honestly. Frederick Darrington was a nice enough man, and it was lovely of him to do this favor for her, but that did not mean she owed him her secrets.

“I...was ready for a change,” she finally said, and the hesitation made her grimace. She’d meant for the words to sound more believable than that, though thankfully he did not ask her to elaborate.

“How long has your family owned the inn?” he asked instead, before plucking another apple and adding it to the growing pile.

“My great-great-grandfather won it with a single hand of cards, and it’s been run by us Graylings ever since.”

“But it’s only you and your grandmother here,” he replied, the inference clear. Where is the rest of your family?

“My father died several years ago,” she said. “And my mother resides in London. She...is not suited for this life.”

The excess and frivolity of London living had never really suited Lily, but her mother reveled in it, as did her sister, Rose.

“What about siblings?” Frederick asked, as if reading her mind. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I have one sister.”

She did not offer anything more, hoping he would let the matter drop, but he did not oblige her this time.

“And is she in London with your parents?”

“Yes.” Her hands tightened around the ladder. And she’s married to the man who should have been mine.

“Is she—”

“You certainly do ask a lot of questions, Mr. Darrington,” she interrupted. “Are you always this inquisitive?”

His low chuckle grew louder as he descended the ladder, and Lily stepped back to clear the way, averting her gaze like a lady should, even in the face of temptation.

“It’s Frederick, remember?” he said, turning to face her. “And, to answer your question: no, I’m not. But there’s something about you that inspires my curiosity.”

Lily frowned at him, though she could not deny her heart had skipped a beat. “I can’t imagine what that could be. There is nothing especially interesting about me.”

Frederick arched a brow, his smile teasing as he leaned in to say, “And yet, I am interested.”

Her cheeks warmed, and her throat went dry, as if her entire body had felt those words and liked them far too much.

She swallowed, and because she simply could not help it, her gaze dropped to his lips, and that affable, oh-so-alluring smile.

She wanted to press her lips to that smile, taste it for herself and caress it with her tongue until her curiosity was satisfied and neither of them could stand the torment a single moment longer. ..

Frederick leaned in further, and Lily’s breath hitched, her heart racing as her gaze flew to his.

“Your Mr. Carstairs is watching us,” he murmured low, his eyes locked on hers, and although she understood the reason for it, she shivered all the same when he brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

“Shall I kiss you?” he asked, the pad of his thumb tracing her jaw, her chin.

Lily blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Because begging his pardon was better than begging for his kiss.

“Mr. Carstairs,” he repeated. “Your unwanted suitor? He’s watching us through a window. I thought perhaps you might like to give him something worth seeing.”

Lily was not a foolish person. She knew a bad idea when she saw one, and fake engagement or not, kissing Frederick Darrington was a very bad idea.

Still, even smart girls made mistakes. And some mistakes were worth making.

“Yes,” she said, over her thundering heart. “All right.”

Something akin to approval sparked in his gaze and then he nudged her chin up gently with his thumb, his fathomless eyes fixed on her lips.

He dipped his head with unhurried, focused intent, and Lily let her eyes slide closed, and the subtle scent of his spicy cologne enveloped her, heating her blood and fraying her nerves.

Her body seemed to have forgotten that this wasn’t real, that it was nothing but a performance. Or perhaps her body simply didn’t care.

Perhaps she didn’t care.

Perhaps she simply wanted this kiss, no matter the reason for it.

Frederick’s lips brushed over hers, a fleeting touch, soft and warm, and while he did not taste of apples, he was delicious all the same.

Maybe it was the thrill of playacting, or the fact that it had been a very long time since she’d enjoyed a man’s kiss, but that brief brush of his lips on hers rocked her to her core and lit her up inside.

“Lily?”

Her eyes popped open, and she blinked, scrambling to gather her wits.

It was not a real kiss, Lily.

She repeated it twice then met Frederick’s gaze. “Is Mr. Carstairs gone?”

He nodded, his eyes locked on hers, and the look on his face seemed almost tender, though surely that couldn’t be right. Surely that was the effects of the kiss playing tricks on her mind.

She swallowed. “Right. Well, then, we’d best get back to work, hadn’t we?”

“I suppose we had,” he replied, and his smile was back in place as if the kiss had never happened.

Of course, it hadn’t been much of a kiss, had it? A single tick of the clock and then it was over. Hardly a kiss worth losing one’s head over.

Shoving all thoughts of kisses to the back of her mind, she dragged the basket of apples, now half-full, to a new section of tree ready to be relieved of its fruit.

Frederick leaned the ladder against the trunk and then Lily climbed up and began picking apples and tossing them into the basket.

Neither of them spoke a word, and the silence between them seemed fraught and uncomfortable, but Lily had to admit the possibility this was her own projection, that it was only she who felt fraught and uncomfortable.

You are being silly , she scolded herself.

For goodness’ sake, she was fretting, and she was not the sort of girl who fretted. Especially over something so silly as a kiss that hadn’t even been real.

“Why aren’t you interested in Mr. Carstairs?”

Lily stilled in the process of tossing an apple into the basket, his question catching her by surprise.

“You’ve met him,” she answered, letting the apple drop. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I will admit, he does seem like a bit of a jackass, but then, most men are.”

She reached for another apple, and there was a bite to her voice as she said, “Meaning what? That marriage to a ‘bit of a jackass’ is better than no marriage at all?”

A long moment of silence followed, as if he were debating the wisdom in answering, then finally he said, “It is only you and your grandmother running this inn. A husband would at least help to lighten the load.”

Merciful heavens . She was sick to death of hearing that argument.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or he might bring a whole host of new problems with him.”

“Perhaps,” Frederick parroted. “But you wouldn’t be alone.”

Lily had considered that many times before.

Being alone wasn’t the worst thing in the world, though.

She liked herself and her own company, and she was content with the way things were.

A husband could easily upset the balance, and she wasn’t willing to take that risk, especially on a man who was a bit of a jackass.

“I don’t mind being alone,” she said, rising on her toes to snatch an apple that was just out of reach.

“Don’t you? I do.”

The confession surprised her, that he would admit to such a vulnerability, and admit it to her, a practical stranger.

“Why?” she asked, before tossing a rotten apple to the ground.

“Because…” He hesitated, or perhaps he was simply gathering his thoughts. “Because I think too much when I’m alone.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

He was quiet again and she wished she could see his face. Then, in a voice so soft she barely caught the words, he said, “I think it is.”

Lily didn’t dare to ask, but she wondered what he meant by that, what thoughts were so terrible he dreaded being alone with them.

He was such a friendly, charming man that it was easy to assume he was uncomplicated, too.

But, apparently, he wasn’t. He was a man with hidden depths and secrets, and the realization made him all the more attractive to her.

She wanted to know those secrets, dash it all, but to what end? He was leaving soon. And allowing herself to get close to him, to care for him, would do her no good.

Indeed, it would be the height of foolishness.