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Her face Hashed to a prickly burn. "Yes."
"A typical amount?"
"Good God, why do you insist on mortifying me?"
"I eavesdropped on my mother and her friends constantly as a child. This conversation is not new to me."
"It's new to me! I've never discussed this with anyone."
He shrugged. "Well? Is it normal?"
"Yes!"
"Then congratulations. You avoided disaster."
"As did you."
He inclined his head, his face giving no hint to his feelings.
"I do so appreciate what you've done for me. I don't know another man who would have offered the same."
"I am exceptional." Surely that was a hint of sharpness in those words?
Marissa curled her fingers against the wood, wishing she had something to hold on to. "You are exceptional. An exceptional friend."
"Of course."
"And I'm sure you're relieved not to have to sacrifice yourself on my behalf."
"Oh, quite."
She would've thought he was angry if she hadn't witnessed his fury the night before. His face wasn't twisted with rage, it was simply a bit more stiff than normal. But there was no sign of a smile, crooked or otherwise.
Perhaps he was only... serious? Concerned? Marissa stared up at him, more confused than ever. "You'll probably want to leave soon?"
Now he frowned. "Why would I want to leave?"
"Because most of the guests are departing tomorrow. I assume you'd only planned to stay because you... might have been needed."
He watched her for a long moment, and his gaze dipped down her body so briefly that she wasn't sure she'd seen it.
"No," he finally said. "I hadn't planned on leaving soon."
She didn't like the way her pulse sped at those words. "But why?"
"Aidan invited me to stay as long as I like. I like it here. In fact, I'm considering renting a cottage."
"A cottage!"
"Yes, my only home is in London, and I enjoy this part of the country."
Her pulse tripped and stumbled now, panicking at his innocuous words. "Here? I see. Of course." She squeezed her fists harder, until the nails dug into her palms. "Well, I do thank you. Sincerely. And I enjoyed our time together."
One of his dark eyebrows rose to mock her.
"That is ... I... well, I will see you at dinner, Mr. Bertrand."
His jaw jumped at that, and Marissa fumbled for the door knob. Why did she feel she was doing something wrong? Why did she feel ashamed now, when she hadn't felt it before?
