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He sat on the armchair next to hers, pouring himself another cup of tea. The candle lights illuminated the room in reddish glows, yielding a domestic atmosphere. They highlighted his tanned skin and made his hair blacker than black. His strong body sat back and he seemed very concentrated on his tea. She lowered her gaze quickly, lest he noticed her appreciation of him, despite everything.
“Don’t your parents attend the fair anymore?” He inquired as a means of conversation.
Her rosewood eyes snapped up with the unexpected question. “They seldom leave the manor after my father broke his leg on a hunting party.” She struggled to keep her tone even.
Conrad arched his brow, curious. “I didn’t know that.” His dark eyes direct on her, which stirred her unavoidably.
“Yes. It happened last autumn.” Lowering her head, she focused on the mending. “He hasn’t recovered fully and feels a lot of pain.” She stabbed the needle in the cloth. “Which makes them stay home most of the time.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” He sympathised. “Maybe a doctor from London would help?”
She lifted her head again, to find him with a worried expression on his handsome face. It surprised her to see he cared.
The Baron and Baroness of Middleton did not abound in wealth. “I wish they could afford it.” She said candidly.
“If they cannot, we can.” He declared without hesitation. “I will write a letter to an acquaintance of mine from the East Indian Company first thing in the morrow.” He volunteered, surprising her further.
“Thank you.” She said, going back to her mending.
His concern turned her into a cauldron of tattered feelings. He had been doing the most unexpected things lately. Not that the fury from this afternoon had dowsed. That being the worst, mingling her senses even more.
The discomfort inside and the tension his presence drew her to convinced her the time grew late. Late for a retreat, she thought cowardly. Devolving her sewing to the basket, she stood up.
“The hour grows late.” He stood immediately for politeness. “Good night.”
He bowed to her in reply, as she passed him towards the door.
In her bedchamber, she dismissed Abigail as soon as the girl finished unbuttoning her dress. The poor lady’s maid seemed exhausted with the rambling around the manor to accompany her.
She stood in front of the mirror with her mended shift, when the connecting door opened. She jerked abruptly at it, as Conrad stepped in, attired in his foreign tunic and trousers that rendered him so attractive, she almost forgot herself. She turned to him stonily, trying hard to tamp down his effect on her.
“What now?” When it came to him, her wits vanished with her verbal skills.
His sensuous lopsided smile did not help her composure. “I would say it is rather obvious.”
“Ha! Come to slake your lust, haven’t you?” She said acidly, hands flying to her waist.
“And yours, I dare say.” He strode confident to her, stopping inches from her feet, his spicy scent invading her peace of mind.
She burned. Burned from the afternoon events, burned for this pull he had over her, her feelings scattered all over the place.
“How dare you?” She fumed now. The idea of him and another woman chocked her!
“I am your husband.” His silky statement only superficial. “I have rights.”
“Rights?” Her voice dripping fury. “Who are you to bring up rights?”
He raised one brow, sardonic. “Your husband, to whom you promised an heir.”
“You scoundrel!” She spat livid. “You can go find your mistress!” He had not been able even to keep a mistress before now. His erratic behaviour afforded only passing…diversions, she suspected.
His eyes hardened at that. “I do not have a mistress!” He murmured hotly. “Nor will I ever have one!” He faced her head on, as she launched him a suspicious expression.
“You know why?” He continued, lowering his dark eyes to his middle; she followed and blushed crimson at the sight of his erection tenting his loose trousers. “Because I want solely you!”
The evidence of his desire, mingled with her rage and want, heated her to unbearable levels. Blindly, she approached him and punched him on his solid chest. “Damn you!” As if that would relieve her of her pressing emotions.
Delicately, he held her arms, pulling her to him. “I say I want you and you curse me?” His voice husky, seductive. His eyes intent down on hers.
