She nodded once, as if satisfied, and slid out of his path, then she sent him a coy smile. “A compliment would not go amiss, milord. A lady always appreciates one of those.” With that, she picked up her skirts and darted away.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, regretting the growth of stubble he hadn’t had time to run a blade over, and started for the parlor.
Chapter 16
Sterling crossed into the parlor, a chamber he rarely had occasion to use as he received few visitors at the castle. That had changed these past few days. The dark reds, golds, and greens of the furnishings, carpets, and wall hangings glowed in the golden flames of the crackling hearth and stuttering wall tapers, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere.
Annabelle, wearing the soft rose-gold colored gown Babette had refashioned for her, stood with her back to him, gazing out one of the small arched windows. The gown fitted her to perfection, emphasizing the elegant curve of her back, and the slender span of her waist.
Her long hair was partially bound at her crown, leaving the length of it to fall in artful waves down her back. The flaxen strands glinted, reflecting the chamber’s ambient light.
She looked right in the chamber, like she belonged nowhere else. Like a mistress of the manor, preparing to receive her visitors.
Or a wife.
“Good evening.” He eased further into the room.
She shifted ‘round to face him, a tentative smile curving her lush lips. “Good evening.”
“I see Babette once again made excellent use of my sister’s wardrobe.”
Her smile dimmed. “Yes.”
It’s kindness she needs…A compliment wouldn’t go amiss.
“The color suits you,” he blurted. “In point of fact, you look quite fetching.” He waited, anticipating the vainglorious rejoinder that was sure to follow.
None came. Her wide-set blue eyes widened with evident pleasure and, if he wasn’t mistaken, surprise.
That made no sense. Her chamber included a tall looking glass. She knew the captivating sight she presented. He’d read that on her the moment they’d met.
And yet, her expressionhadsoftened.
Or perhaps his mind was playing tricks. Perhaps she looked different to him because she’d ceased glaring at him for the moment.
“I hope Lady Caroline will not mind.” As she spoke, her fingertips feathered over the velvet that trimmed the bodice. His gaze dipped to the expanse of creamy skin, the generous swell of breasts, and the enticing line of cleavage above said trim. His groin tightened.
Hell. He ripped his gaze from her chest and strode for the credenza, aware his inconvenient arousal might be less so if he ceased ogling his houseguest. “I daresay my sister would take me to task if I did not avail you of her wardrobe. Join me for a glass of wine before dinner?” Sterling could use one.
“Just a splash.” Linking her hands behind her back, she crossed the room to join him.
Notes of fresh herbs and an indefinable feminine elixir teased his nostrils. He’d come to realize the scent came from the woman herself and not any applied fragrance.
“I liked—like Lady Caroline very much. I always thought her gentle manner…” she hesitated before completing her sentence. “…would do Gaston good.”
He grunted, rather than speak his mind on that front, and splashed a measure of wine into two crystal wine glasses, then turned to hand her one.
“Thank you,” she murmured before sipping. “I had no idea you went out after our return from Fenwick.”
“I hope that means you were enjoying your bath,” he told her with a grin.
She blinked. “I did. Very much. I was not sure who to thank for the consideration.”
“No thanks necessary. I…er…merely thought you might appreciate…that is…” Why in hell was he stammering?
She sent him a beatific smile that did something to his ribs, as if they’d suddenly grown too tight for the space they enclosed.
“It was like freshly prepared hot chocolate and a hard ride on a high-strung horse and a perfect spring day all wrapped into one. It was perfect. Thank you.”
