Argent (Hundred Days Series Book 3) by Baird Wells

would know; he'd done a skilled job of it.
                  Leaning in she bumped him with a shoulder. “Such a strange way to begin a friendship.”
                  A bump in return. “Is that what we are?”
                  “You've spared me from Paulina two days in a row, so yes.” She grimaced, imagining her day without Spencer’s interference.
                  He laughed. “She's not stupid, by my estimation. Mrs. Paton is bound to figure out we're dodging her eventually.”
                  He had named her anxiety, a worry that had sat on the edge of her consciousness since yesterday. Paulina wasn't smart, but she was clever. Alix hated the idea of losing what they’d shared the last two days. She'd forgotten what it was like to be free, unburdened. “I have no idea what can be done about it.”
                  Resting elbows on his knees, Spencer tossed her a boyish smile off his shoulder. “We're going to have to like other people, Mrs. Rowan. Or at least pretend to, if we wish to be in each other’s company.”
                  “You're asking a great deal,” she grumbled, slipping from the tree to the ground. Leaning her head back against the spongy wood, she followed wisps of cloud brushing the sky. Spencer thudded beside her a moment later, sitting close enough that she felt the heat of his body without touching. She wished he would touch her, even the smallest brush to help make sense of a jumble inside.
                  A rustle of summer leaves passed the time for them, the breeze fanning her cheeks under an afternoon sun. Her attention fixed on Spencer, as it had so many times over the previous days. He became the point at which she started, spreading from him to their surroundings like ripples in water.
                  “Alexandra.” Her name murmured on his lips gave Alix a small thrill. “I didn't single you out in the ballroom because you appeared desperate. Just the opposite, in fact.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Impossible. I don’t possess the eloquence.”
    Eyes closed, she exhaled slowly, steadying herself and trying to form feelings into words. To explain a warmth she felt deep inside.
                  Spencer cleared his throat and got up. She expected him to say it was time to go. Footsteps moved off, crunching into the brush.
                  Something struck her, a sharp impact above her left breast. “Ow!” She snapped up.
                  “Oh, dammit all.” He raised his hands. “I hadn’t considered its staining your coat.”
                  She glanced from a purple blotch on her lapel to the blackberry in her lap, then to Spencer frozen at the edge of the clearing. She stood without a word, stamping first toward the curricle to mislead him and veering into the bushes at the last second. Pinching off two fat blackberries, she wheeled and slung, lodging one in the folds of his cravat. Hers left its own mark, stain bold against the fine white linen.
                  Spencer raised a brow. “My aim is accurate , Mrs. Rowan.”
                  “I've been warned.” She snapped more berries as she spoke. One pegged his cheek, and one missed entirely. Winding up for a third shot, she realized she'd discounted his mobility.              
    First he matched her, a stride forward for each one she took back. Then he was running. She waited for his lunge and turned to flee. His boots were thunder hammering the ground at her back as she circled the horses.
                  His finger snatched the skirt of her coat. Alix threw herself forward into a long stride, certain she'd lost him rounding the back of the carriage. An arm hooked her waist and tipped her back. “No, no!” She gasped, wriggling against his grip and certain that whatever came next, it would not be pleasant.
    His next move