He looked away, uncomfortable with the softness in her voice, the understanding in her eyes. “Do you mind if we change the subject?” This conversation had gotten far more intimate than he’d planned.
Awkward silence fell between them, but then she cleared her throat. “Will you tell me about America?” she asked, infusing false enthusiasm into her voice. “I’d like to know what to expect.”
“Certainly.” He risked a glance in her direction. “What would you like to know?”
She flushed and balled her hands in her lap. “I’ve heard it’s a wild, heathen place full of half-naked savages who’d like nothing better than to separate your hair from your head.”
“Well, your hair would be a fine trophy.” Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and brushed an errant strand back behind the delicate curve of her ear. “But you needn’t worry. There hasn’t been any Indian trouble near Charleston in decades.”
Her breath caught, and he removed his hand. The surge of desire provoked by such a casual gesture stunned him.
It had been far too long since he’d been with a woman.
He cleared his throat. “I think you’ll be surprised, Kathryn. Holyoke is a lovely place. Not as large as Rosewood Manor, but imposing nonetheless. You’ll want for nothing there.”
“I didn’t give you permission to address me so familiarly,” she snapped, obviously furious at his lack of manners.
“It doesn’t suit you anyway.” He grinned, unimpressed by her show of pique. “Kathryn is too stuffy. Sounds like someone’s maiden aunt.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Kate,” he decided. “I think I’ll call you Kate from now on.”
“I don’t need a nickname.” She glared at him, that fine mind of hers working. “What about your name? Talon. I’ve never heard such a strange name.”
Pain flared to life, chasing away his lingering good humor. “My mother named me Talon. I don’t know why.”
So much for changing the subject. He’d spoken of his mother more in the last five minutes than he had in the last decade.
She sat back, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right. She’s dead now, anyway.”
“How terrible for you, Talon.” Her green eyes were filled with sympathy. He didn’t miss the fact that she’d used his first name, even though she’d just chided him for doing the same. “How old were you when it happened?”
“Twelve.” He shook his head, looking away. “It was a long time ago.”
“My mother died when I was born,” she told him, trying to keep him from making light of his pain. “I never even knew her, but I still mourn her loss.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t mourn her. Good God, Kate. We should have kept to the small talk.
She laughed, a soft, airy sound that went a long way toward chasing away his demons. “Well, at least you aren’t boring. And you may call me Kate, if you wish. I rather like it.”
* * * * *
The clatter of carriage wheels beneath Kathryn’s window woke her from a fitful sleep. Her gaze flew to the clock on the mantle, and relief flooded her when she saw morning hadn’t yet arrived. Her entire plan centered on speaking with Daniel before Sutcliffe returned from the Manor.
She’d curled up in the window seat, awaiting her husband’s return, but had drifted off to sleep around midnight. It was one o’clock now.
Pressing her face against the glass, she peered down at the stables far below, relief washing over her when she made out Daniel’s slender form. Unfortunately, he’d brought a friend home.
She chafed at the necessity of waiting while he settled the stranger in one of the guest rooms. Nothing seemed to be going her way.
Sighing, she slid off the window seat and checked her reflection in the mirror, hoping she looked suitably seductive. Her bridal nightgown revealed every curve of her body, and her hair hung loose down her back in a waterfall of dark curls. Heated embarrassment flushed her cheeks, and her eyes were bright with excitement.
This had to work.
She couldn’t bear to think about what she’d do if it didn’t.
