“Long enough,” he agreed with a laugh, about time to get their act together. (We, she had said: so they still had more in common than she wanted to admit.) And there was a certain frisson in being polite and unassuming and courteous on the surface whilst both feeling the subtext that Kristoffer had never appreciated in a conversation before. Of course, he hadn’t usually stolen kisses – unwanted or otherwise – from the people he was talking to, so there wasn’t ordinarily so much lingering tension.
He could hardly admit that the tension they had supposedly put to bed and forgotten was still driving him mad though, could he? He had to play this cool, and convince himself that she regretted it more than he did. Friends, he reminded himself. He knew how to be friends... he thought. He probably ought to have asked after Atticus or June, since those were the names she had mentioned – but to be perfectly honest Kristoffer was not a kind enough soul to care about her friends and family to no end. Better not to think about her family altogether, really – for what little he knew of the Dashwoods themselves was that they weren’t as pureblooded as most of the people in his circles, and if he thought about blood he would be forced to disdain her as beneath him, which he didn’t want. (There was only one way he wanted Poppy Dashwood beneath him –)
He cleared his throat, plunged back into the conversation before he got carried away. “Oh, I believe you,” he drawled back, in a tone and with a smirk that blatantly suggested he didn’t believe her at all. “Of course you didn’t,” he teased, “you’re not a wild thing. How much do you like horses, then?” he inquired. “Do you ride?” (He could envision her, ahem, riding.)
He could hardly admit that the tension they had supposedly put to bed and forgotten was still driving him mad though, could he? He had to play this cool, and convince himself that she regretted it more than he did. Friends, he reminded himself. He knew how to be friends... he thought. He probably ought to have asked after Atticus or June, since those were the names she had mentioned – but to be perfectly honest Kristoffer was not a kind enough soul to care about her friends and family to no end. Better not to think about her family altogether, really – for what little he knew of the Dashwoods themselves was that they weren’t as pureblooded as most of the people in his circles, and if he thought about blood he would be forced to disdain her as beneath him, which he didn’t want. (There was only one way he wanted Poppy Dashwood beneath him –)
He cleared his throat, plunged back into the conversation before he got carried away. “Oh, I believe you,” he drawled back, in a tone and with a smirk that blatantly suggested he didn’t believe her at all. “Of course you didn’t,” he teased, “you’re not a wild thing. How much do you like horses, then?” he inquired. “Do you ride?” (He could envision her, ahem, riding.)
