At least it was only ale spilled and not boiling hot stew. The stickiness of her skin was vastly preferable to any potential burns. "I'm okay. It's nothing that can't be washed —" and then his knee was against hers and his arm grazed her own.

If Jo hadn't been four glasses deep, she might not have thought to stop him from pulling away once the puddle was mopped up. The accidental touch (for what Englishman touched a woman without explicit permission) was more than her wound up brain could handle, leading her to take his hand in her own. How easy it would be to lean in and kiss him. They were safe in their anonymous bubble here, surely he wouldn't deny her a kiss...

Her gaze shifted between his striking blue eyes and his lips, and back again lasting longer on each pass. Mr. Binns had broken so many rules tonight, what was one more?