“How do you know?” she asked. She was sure she hadn’t eaten them in his presence.
“You tasted of them in the knot garden.” Clara felt her eyes widen at his comment. What was the man doing to her today? He had been hot and cold with her all week. Today, he was practically singeing her.
He still held the cherry, and Clara made a grab for it.
“No, no,” he murmured, whisking the it out of reach. “No hands.” She watched as he bit the end and then held out the rest of the juicy fruit. She leant forward and snatched it away with her teeth – damn man – teasing her so. The taste was sweet and intense, and she closed her eyes in pleasure. These cherries this week, were the first she’d seen this year, and Clara surmised he must have them under glass. She savoured the taste after the long months without them.
“Bloody hell,” murmured Rook.
She was killing him. Absolutely killing him. She didn’t realise it, but from this position he could see all the way down her gown. Firm breasts pressed against her bodice, her breathing rapid, and the expression on her face… He had thought to gently court Clara this morning. To enjoy her company and discuss books, the theatre, chess and all the other myriad of things he wanted to know about her. Now all he wanted to do was tumble her back against the cushions.
“Rook, can I steal Clara away for a game of bowls.” Rook glared at his friend. What the devil?
“You two are…er… causing a few people to feel a tad hot and bothered, if you catch my meaning? Not too many have noticed as yet, but I’d separate if I was you.” Rook felt a previously unknown, ruddy flush on his cheekbones. What did the girl do to him? He forgot where he was, forgot all proprieties, when he spent time with Miss Clara Lockwood.
“As always, Jack, you are the arbiter of correct behaviour and have saved us from downfall. Take Clara to play bowls. I have been putting off estate work and need to see to the tenants. Clara, I shall see you tonight for dinner.”
He could see Clara’s bewilderment, as Jack led her to the lawn, but it was true. He really did have work to do. The estate manager had turned up early this morning with a list of problems. Rook had deserted the man in his study, as soon as he saw Clara outside. He straightened up, ruefully acknowledging that at least looking over the estate’s accounts and harvest forecasts would cool his ardour.
He remembered Clara’s eyes as he helped her release the arrow – at least now he knew he wasn’t the only one suffering from this all-consuming, indefinable feeling.
ΦΦΦ
