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That was more or less what Clement had said. Only he’d made it sound as if Rawcliffe had become very high in the instep once he’d gone away to school. Which was the thing about Clement’s lies. There was always just a grain of truth embedded in them somewhere, that misled you into believing the rest of what he was dishing up along with it.
‘In what way, precisely?’
‘Precisely?’ He raised one eyebrow at her to convey his displeasure. But then, after searching her face for a moment or two, he appeared to relent. ‘I discovered that I would rather keep company with boys who resisted bullies and used their intelligence to try to improve the lot of others.’
By placing a slight emphasis on the words resisted and improve, he’d just implied that her brothers preferred being bullies and tormenting those weaker or less intelligent than themselves.
She lowered her head and stared at her linked fingers for a second or two. There was no arguing with that. All the males in her family were of a despotic disposition. Even her father used to attempt to terrorise his congregation from the pulpit with threats of hellfire.
‘No wonder you didn’t mind practically being forbidden to set foot on shore,’ she said with a rather desperate little laugh. Because she felt, and not for the first time, acutely embarrassed at being related to Clement. ‘In fact, you probably preferred waiting in the boat, if it meant you didn’t have to come face-to-face with Clement.’
‘I did,’ he said. ‘Especially since the picnic Pierre provided was of such a high standard.’
‘Oh, please tell me there is some left,’ she said, placing one hand on her stomach which, she suddenly discovered, felt completely hollow.
He put his foot on the hamper, preventing her from checking inside. And gave her one of those looks, with his lids half-lowered, that always put her in mind of bedroom activities.
‘Will you be very angry with me if I confess to being selfish enough to have devoured it all?’
‘What?’ Why would he say anything of the sort? Pierre would have prepared enough to feed not only Rawcliffe and herself, but also the crew of the ketch, like as not. And why was he looking at her in that particular manner? As though he was…flirting with her.
As though she was one of the women he’d pursued because he found them so irresistible, rather than the sister of a man he detested, who’d just been pestering him with a series of questions he’d clearly found impertinent.
And why start doing so now? How typical!
How vexing!
She’d always stopped him in his tracks whenever it had looked as though he’d been thinking of flirting with her, in the past. So that now she was actually of a mind to encourage him, she had no idea how to go about it.
‘I… I…’ She blushed and lowered her head.
‘Would you like me to make a few suggestions,’ he said, sliding closer and looping one arm about her waist, ‘about how I could make it up to you?’
‘Not while we are on this boat,’ she said, going rigid within his hold. ‘Not while those fishermen can overhear anything you might suggest.’
‘When, then?’ He nuzzled the word into her ear. ‘When we land?’
That was almost as bad. Because she didn’t need him to make any suggestions whatsoever. Her own imagination was supplying plenty of forfeits she would dearly love him to pay. Which made her blush all over and shake her head.
‘Well, how about tonight, then?’ he said, running his tongue round the outer edge of her ear. Which made her bones feel as if they were dissolving. If he hadn’t still got his arm round her waist, she was sure she’d melt off the bench and all that would be left of her would be a puddle on the deck.
Thankfully, at that point, her stomach rumbled.
‘Never mind what you mean to do later,’ she said, lunging forward and pushing his foot off the hamper. ‘As you can tell, all I can think about right now is having something to eat.’ She flipped open the latch securing the lid. ‘And drink. Because, do you know, Clement didn’t even have the manners to offer me a cup of tea.’
‘The true sign of a villain,’ said Rawcliffe with a slight smile playing about his lips.
