own luck turning investments around. Which means, I believe, that he buys terribly stupid things and yet you manage to make them profitable.”
He looked at her a long moment. “You are very well informed.”
“You told me as much when we first met. Plus, I am very good at listening to your sister. She is very fond of you.”
“Even if she calls me harsh and dictatorial.”
“Even so.”
“Humph,” he returned. And then there was no more talk as the innkeeper brought them their dinner. He laid it out: quail with a sweet glaze, potatoes split and swimming in butter, and winter apples cooked with a covering of sugar. It was a feast the likes of which she had only heard about but never seen, much less tasted. And when she looked back at Lord Redhill, he merely smiled as if he knew how much of a treat this meal would be for her.
“You said simple stew.”
He gestured to another bowl as the innkeeper set it on the table. He lifted the lid and the scent of a savory beef stew filled the room.
“Of course,” she laughed. “I should not have doubted you.”
The innkeeper ducked away while Lord Redhill took her hand and escorted her the two steps to the table. He held out her chair for her, poured her more wine, and then seated himself across from her.
“But where are the almonds?” she asked. Truly she didn’t really care. There was more than enough here to delight her for years to come. But she had to say something, and that was what came to mind.
“That is for after dinner,” he said. “For a snack if you are still hungry. If we talk for a very long time.”
“Ah,” she said, her gaze going to the fire. There was a very large space set out before the fireplace. Easy enough to set the pillows on the floor and lounge there. She had seen her father do so once. With a woman who should not have been in their home. Her gaze returned to Lord Redhill.
Could she do that with him? Lie in front of the fire and speak in low murmurs? Would he kiss her then? Would he caress her face? Would he touch something more?
“You have it all planned,” she said.
“I’m told that’s what I do best.”
“Yes,” she said, knowing that fear was not what was making her body flush with heat. “I’m sure it’s one of the very many things you do well.”
He opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words came out. A moment later he addressed himself to serving her food, dishing out one delicacy after another. He chatted companionably about this and that. He spoke of how he liked this dish prepared, he told her an amusing story of Gwen’s first introduction to quail, and he even delighted her with horrible tales of his food at school. In truth, she spent as much time laughing as she did eating.
Then the meal was done, the dishes removed, and Lord Redhill was taking her hand as he led her from the table. But they did not return to the couch. No, instead, he grabbed hold of two of the very large pillows and tossed them on the floor right in front of the fire.
“Do you mind?” he asked. “I find this much more comfortable. Lets me stretch out my legs after a large meal.”
“Of course not,” she said because that was what she ought to say. She did not want him to be uncomfortable.
“You needn’t join me,” he said as he leaned back against the table and stretched out his legs. “But I do find it much easier to roast the almonds from here rather than over there.” So saying, he gestured to a bucket of the nuts sitting next to a roasting frame beside the fire.
“But I am so full. I couldn’t possibly eat another thing.”
“Ah,” he said with a laugh. “But we have not yet even begun to talk. Who knows how you will feel in an hour or more?”
“An hour! My goodness, what could we possibly talk about for an hour?”
He shrugged. “Anything you like, Helaine. But do just come sit here beside me. Save me from having to crane my neck.”
What could she say to that? She didn’t want him to hurt his neck. “Of course, my lord.”
“You must call me Robert.”
She nodded. Of course she would use the Christian name of the man who was helping her settle down beside him.
“Say it, Helaine. Please say it.”
She gazed into the warm depths of his chocolate eyes. They were seated hip to hip, the pillows braced behind them, the fire before them. His arm was behind her, gently encouraging her to lean against his chest. And his face was a few inches away, his mouth even less.
“Say what? Your name?”
“Say yes.”
Chapter 12
“N—”
He kissed her. Whatever word was on her lips was erased beneath his onslaught, his gentle domination as he moved his mouth across hers. Then he invaded her as a man ought, with steady pressure and thorough command. She was untutored, so he instructed, he teased, and he thrust himself inside.
She gasped and might have pulled back, but there was nowhere for her to go. He had positioned her with her back against a chair. And besides, he had his arm behind her, the bulk of his body to her side, and his other hand slowly wrapping across her front. When she was fully inside his embrace, he would ease her to the floor. There was a pillow there, conveniently placed. And once he had her on her back, everything would proceed exactly as it ought.
That was his plan, and he knew it would work. She was already arching into his kiss, her body stretching for him, her arm slowly wrapping around his back. But why was she reaching high? She should be clutching him as he overwhelmed her senses, not stretching up so she could reach…
She grabbed hold of his hair and yanked. His head jerked back with a cry.
“Ow!”
Her expression was the ultimate in innocence. “I’m sorry, my lord. Did your head get caught on something? Perhaps it was my word. I believe I said
She released his hair and folded her hands primly in her lap. Meanwhile, he was feeling to see if she’d left any hair on his head. Clearly she was a woman who took things at her own pace. He would just have to go slower. And while he was thinking this, she was trying to put them on a more equal footing.
“You said you wanted to talk to me about something? About your mine?”
He sighed, his thoughts immediately wandering to the problems he had there. It would be good for him to talk it out. It would clear his mind and fill the time before he tried to kiss her again.
“I received yet another letter from the man I promoted to manager. Charlie is his name. Good man, but young. Maybe that was my mistake. The other men don’t respect him.”
She sniffed. “I find that reasons like youth are just excuses. Men invariably do what they intend and damn the circumstances.”
He frowned. “That’s a hell of a cynical attitude.” Too late he realized he had cursed in front of her, but she merely shrugged.
“Johnny Bono will take advantage of whoever comes along if he can. Male, female, young or old, his intention is to feed his appearance of power and virility.”
