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With a dainty elegance, she rested the spoon on the plate. “It is the least I could do for my uncle.”
Not for the new Earl, naturally. And why did he wish it was? “I am grateful, nonetheless.”
Her concentration went back to her plate, and he got excluded again. His perusal roamed her.
The mourning black she wore only caused her alabaster skin to glow more pearlescent, highlighting its smoothness and inducing a tragically arousing thought of lips—his lips—running along it wherever the dress allowed it to show. And then running along the skin, impatiently uncovering tiny button after tiny button with his fingers. In short, everywhere. In truth, he had tasted its warmness and silkiness a thousand times before.
In his imagination.
In his dreadful, fertile imagination.
In his dreadful and inconveniently febrile imagination.
For the woman ignited nothing less than the hottest and biggest bonfire in his blood. Despicable and title-hungry though she proved to be. Contemptable as he labelled himself when the sight of her bludgeoned him with a want he refused to acknowledge, even to himself.
She took one more spoon of soup, and his eyes followed the fortunate silverware’s route into her lips. And those lips were made not for sin. Oh no. Sin was too bland a word for the depth of desire they inflicted. They were made for pure, unrestrained lust. The kind that condemned a man to toss and turn in his bed for hours.
Like he had done since that last stay.
Like he would probably do tonight.
One would think the whole thing would have abated during these years. It had. He had made it so. Compensated it with mistresses. Filled his days with work to tame his thoughts. And cravings. The palliative produced its effect.
But the sight of her, the nearness of her caused it all to come back rushing like a landslide upon him. He had believed himself cured. Perhaps sedated. How wrong he was.
Determination not to give in to it firmed in him. He would not make that mistake again. Not after Coraline.
He would do his duty by the title. Marry a pedigreed debutante, have an heir and continue with his business. Care for the land, attend Parliament. He wanted nothing to do with women who took him out of control—women with their own agendas, their own minds.
Their own will.
“I was going to talk to you at a more opportune moment, but since we are here, I might as well do it now.” She started as the footman served the second course and disappeared at the Earl’s bidding.
He waited. She had managed the manor for the past few months. She knew its routine and its needs. No surprise she probably had listed requirements.
“I have applied to several positions as a governess and companion.” She sipped her wine. “I hope you will let me stay until a position is available.”
Of all the unexpected things this day brought, her information ranked as number one. He did not give a thought to her future in these busy months. If he did, ejecting her would not figure as a possibility.
“I am not evicting you,” he replied. If he was honest with himself, he would confess to being a little offended that she thought he would do that.
Her head twisted to him, and she looked him in the eye without defiance for the first time since he ‘invited’ her to dinner.
“I did not say you were.” But beneath her polite tone, he heard her certainty he would. “I will undertake employment as soon as possible.”
“No, you will not.” He released the edit without a moment’s hesitation. “You are under my p
rotection and will remain so.”
Her honey gaze levelled on him unwavering. “I do not remember asking for your permission, my lord.” Certainty coated her statement.
She was of age, unmarried and with nothing to bind her to this manor or to any of its inhabitants anymore. Her decisions concerned her alone. He got the clearest notion of this.
He ignored the notion.
“Under my protection, the decision is mine,” he maintained. His words left no doubt that he wielded enough power to make and break plans at his convenience. Shame for it did not show up in the vicinity. There would be no apologising for his station.
“Of course, Lord Thornton.” He wondered if he would ever hear his name on those plump lips again. “I am just imparting my plans for the foreseeable future, so you will know when I have left.”
