"I shouldn't have come here alone in the first place," she said, as if that made it any better. She pishawed when he moved to block her path. She schooled her expression to something cool and aloof to what he was trying to do. "I should be going anyway. I'm supposed to be learning the lay of the land, not lollygagging at the seashore. Now... have a good day, Monsieur," she said, lifting her chin and then attempting again to skirt around him. She managed, just barely, and marched on up the hill. The smell of damask rose wafted gently in her wake along with the lingering scent of a slight musk from her sweat. Indeed, he hadn't had permission. It was only a convenient excuse that she could tell him he shouldn't have looked at her in her underthings, it was the fact that he saw her dancing that caused her to dart.

Nobody was supposed to know or see. That was the most private and intimate thing he could have walked into, and she could feel herself panicking as she made haste to try and put distance between them. She had a feeling that he would follow, however. He was a persistent fellow.