Her eyes widened in surprise. “Actually... now that you mention it, the bread you brought earlier staved off the hunger for a while, but my stomach is beginning to protest.”
“I’ll prepare something for us to eat.”
“A lord who knows how to cook?”
“You’d be surprised by what I know.” And by how desperately he wanted to educate her and be educated by her, for surely she had a few tricks hidden up his shirtsleeves.
Chapter 8
Marlowe had wanted to traipse after him to the kitchen and watch him, but with a commanding voice, he’d told her to wait where she was, as though he couldn’t stand the notion of having her near. She’d nearly disobeyed as she didn’t like being ordered about but she was still weary from her ordeal and not up to a battle. Although she rather fancied the notion of engaging him in one, because she thought it could be challenging as well as enjoyable and entertaining.
With her bent legs pressed to her chest and her feet tucked in close, she studied the room. It was good-sized but not much thought had been given to furnishing and decorating it. No draperies adorned the large windows, which left the lightning visible whenever it appeared. She imagined on a clear night, the moon and stars offered a reflective bit of artwork. The fireplace, like the one in the bedchamber, was huge, a fire blazing. She smiled at the books scattered about. Perhaps that was Langdon’s notion ofdecorating. She couldn’t deny that theirpresence was both pleasing to the eye and comforting to the soul.
Although it had been obvious earlier that he’d not found comfort within this chamber.
She’d only just finished plaiting her hair, after managing to rid herself of all the tangles, when she’d heard his cry, like a wounded creature caught in an excruciating trap. Hence, following the echoes of his distress, she’d hurriedly made her way here. Her heart had gone out to him when she’d seen him flailing his arms about. It had also frightened her to witness this large, strong, bold man lost in the throes of a nightmare. From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, he’d struck her as the sort of fellow who could defeat anything that posed a risk to achieving his goals.
Even his own lustful desires.
As close as she’d been to him, she’d been cognizant of his growing awareness of her as a woman, as a mate. The quickening of his breath, no longer in fear, but in anticipation. The flushing of his skin, no longer in embarrassment but in expectation. The hardening of his cock. If he didn’t desire her, wouldthathave happened?
But if he desired her, would he have left her so easily?
It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps he’d been more intent on escaping his own lustful yearnings, rather than her.
The man was a host of contradictions she wanted to sort through and sort out. The reason for her sudden need to do so was beyond her reckoning. The storm would no doubt end in a few hours andon the morrow... somehow she’d make her way back to the mainland. She furrowed her brow. He wasn’t a prisoner here, surely. He had to possess a means for leaving. A boat, no doubt, rather than a balloon.
Her thoughts were interrupted when he strode in carrying two plates and handed her one before setting the other on a low table in front of the sofa. “I can offer you scotch, rum, or water,” he said as he walked over to a sideboard.
“Scotch.” She studied the offerings on her plate. Buttered eggs, bread slathered with butter, cheese, apple slices. Nothing fancy. Still, her mouth watered.
After placing two tumblers on the table, he settled down beside her and reached for his plate. “When the rain stops, I’ll go fishing, get you something a little more substantial.”
Using the fork that had been resting on her plate, she stirred the eggs. “I’d hoped when the rain stopped, I might be able to leave.”
“What sort of host would I be if I sent you on your way with an empty stomach?”
“A rather grateful one, to be done with me, I expect.”
A corner of his mouth hitched up. A dangerous action that made her think perhaps he was enjoying her company. She certainly didn’t want to find herself enthralled with him. She wished she could return the gesture but had discovered moving her lip too much or spreading it too widely did her no favors. It not only brought discomfort but caused the cut to start bleeding again.
“Still, I’ll feed you first,” he replied, withoutlooking at her, concentrating instead on the food quickly disappearing from his own plate.
“Did you bake the bread?”
He chuckled low. “No. My mother brought it a few days ago when she came over to check on me.”
“Do you have a close relationship with her?”
Taking a sip of his scotch, he focused his attention on the fire for a few seconds before nodding. “Family is very important to her.”
“You mentioned your sister. You also have a brother as I recall.”
He slid his gaze over to her. “Keep up with the nobility, do you?”
“Of course. It’s important I do so because I never know when I might be in want of a different... provider.”
“How is it—” He shook his head and returned to devouring the eggs.
