AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Loudon left the door ajar and stepped away, a fact Mr. Robertson noted with an annoyed glance.
Clara wasn’t terribly surprised when her guest closed the door himself, but disappointment registered.
He wanted privacy. So, hehadcome with blackmail on his mind.
She raised her chin and met his eyes directly with a cool stare, even as humiliation prickled.
She’d harbored hope that his purpose was to seeher—that he’d leave the door open and inquire about a mundane topic like the weather, all the while watching her with those hazel eyes she couldn’t forget.
Of course he didn’t call in darkness only to see you, she chided.
Abruptly, she realized her rudeness in continuing to stand. But he’d come with nefarious intentions; she didn’t want this to imitate a social call. After all, he’d disregarded all convention by calling in the first place and perused her parlor as if it were a common merchant shop!
Under her skirt, Clara’s toes curled, slippers pressing against the floor as if to root her there. Her cheeks burned with the boldness of their mutual stare. It wasn’t polite for a lady to observe anyone else in such a candid manner.
No gentleman would call on her at this hour or under these circumstances. She wanted him to know that she wouldn’t shrink away.
Mr. Robertson stalked towards her, his eyes raking rudely down her form. She felt both offended and exhilarated by his openly carnal assessment of her person.
She regarded him through narrowed eyes, conjuring her frostiest gaze.
He laughed mirthlessly.
Rebelling against the urge to stare into his eyes and catalog the colors, she stepped away. The man was attempting to sway her, to exploit any weakness.
She strode around the long, white settee but couldn’t bring herself to sit. She stood expectantly, unwilling to break the silence.
“My appearance doesn’t seem to surprise you. Yet there’s no welcome,” he mused slowly.
“Why not dispense with indirect speech, shall we? And simply proceed?” she countered brusquely.
“Proceed?” He cocked his head. “You’re ready?”
“Come now, Mr. Robertson. Don’t toy with me. You called at night for a reason.”
“Here I was, thinking thatyouwere toying withme.” He seemed amused.
“I beg your pardon?” She bit out each word.
“So that’s how this will be.” He circled around the settee, hand trailing on the rounded mahogany frame, until they stood face to face. “Does it please you to feign indifference? To have me pursue you?”
Clara blinked. She couldn’t believe he spoke in such a manner!
Why was his Scottish accent far more subdued than when he’d confronted David? That change, and the strange turn of conversation, took her aback.
For the second time that night already, he laughed, this time bitterly. “You fine ladies are relentless with me as soon as you’re away from prying eyes.”
“Mr. Robertson! First you seek to dishonor me with your illicit call in the dark. Now you malign me. Pray tell. To what do I owe this visit, precisely? I wish to know the details of how you propose to manipulate me.”
“Manipulate?” He shook his head, and his long legs reached her in a few efficient strides.
Clara’s eyes widened as his hand—ungloved!—reached toward her. His behavior was so forward that she froze. A glow of warmth was perceptible from him even before they touched.
When his fingers grasped hers, she realized in an instant how cold her life was. How little she was touched by anyone. How, when she was, it was by the literally and figuratively cool hands of the hired.
Mr. Robertson didn’t look surprised when she jerked her soft hand back from his calloused one, though he stared down chidingly, as if he found her gasp overdone. “No manipulation is expected. Nor tolerated. I want an open understanding. Only truth between us.”
“Truth! Now, we approach the matter. To whom do you plan to tell thetruthif you don’t receive what you demand?”
