Nor so sweet.
Nor so innocent.
Or perplexed.
He groaned. Devil take it! He couldn’t make her answer now. He would hate himself for putting her to the test. Aside from that, the heat he had known before now seemed insignificant. That one small glance from her had jolted through him like a static charge, igniting fires he hadn’t known existed.
“You need not answer.” Valen swore under his breath. Reckless. Now he was the one confused. “It was a foolish question. I will take you back to the manor now.”
He jumped down from the wall and held out his arms to her. Elizabeth slid trustingly from the wall into his embrace. She didn’t leave her hands on his shoulders. Instead, she entwined them around his neck, resting her body against his and whispered huskily in his ear, “Yes.”
Then, she sought his lips, and he thought perhaps heaven had descended upon him, so sweet was her kiss.
He had no defence. The power of it all overwhelmed him. Never in his life had he wanted anything, or anyone, so much as he wanted her in that moment. At the same time, never had he been so willing to deny himself.
What was happening to him? Perhaps he had fallen ill and this was all a feverish delirium.
If she didn’t stop kissing him soon, it would be too late. The flimsy inkling of restraint he had left would dissolve.
Wild, untamed thoughts galloped through his head. Dizzy, breathing as if he’d just run down the hill and back again, Valen took her face in his hands. “Izzie, my sweet, there is not another woman in heaven or earth I would rather kiss. But if we do not leave now, well, then I cannot account for my lusty stallion.”
She blinked, failing to grasp his inanity. He grimaced, praying he wouldn’t have to explain.
“Oh.” Comprehension dawned in her pure blue eyes. “You’re worried about your horse running off.”
He tried not to let the corner of his mouth twitch. “Yes. That’s it.”
Her innocent disappointment tweaked his conscience, but he decided they would both fare better if he left the matter unexplained.
He lifted her onto Hercules’s back and held the reins, walking alongside them back to Ransley Keep. He couldn’t ride behind her, holding her as he had. Her scent alone would drive him to madness. So, for the sake of his sanity and her virtue, they had a long quiet stroll back to the manor. During which time Valen pondered the complexity of a God who would create such an ironic paradox as to make him fall in love with a woman he could scarcely tolerate but did not want to live without.
18
Whatsoever Ye Sew, So Shall Ye Wear
“Remarkable.”
The butler stood very stiff and correct in the entry hall. “Yes, m’lord. The first time since Christmas, I believe.”
“You’re right.” Valen rubbed his chin. “Are you certain he’s well enough?”
“It isn’t for me to say, m’lord. He wishes it.” The butler inclined his head and backed away.
Elizabeth and Valen had been greeted with the news that Lord Ransley intended to take his evening meal with all of them in the dining room and that he had even arranged for entertainment afterwards.
As they had journeyed back to the keep, Elizabeth had grown steadily more and more vexed. She brooded about the fact that her kisses had so little effect on Lord St. Evert that he preferred to attend to the welfare of his horse—a humiliating revelation. One which made Elizabeth question whether she had any power over men at all.
“And shall we dress?” she asked peevishly. “Or will you be appearing in your shirtsleeves?”
“I suppose that depends on whether the servants have been able to scrub your slobber out from my dress shirt.”
Callous of him to remind her of that, but, oh so very typical. Well, he needn’t have bothered. She refused to allow him to discomfit her any further. “I’m certain you must have others.”
“I might. But I liked that one.”
Relentless goad. She elevated her chin and shrugged. “You may wear whatever you choose. It makes absolutely no difference to me.”
“Absolutely none?” He bowed. “Why, thank you, your majesty. Your forbearance is a marvel.”
Would that he thought her beauty was a marvel, but of course, he had proved immune to that sort of thing. He preferred to tease her and test her. Well, she’d had enough. “Kindly direct me to the kitchen.” She needed to put the herbs into storage.
“The kitchen?” He feigned shock. “Oh, but surely a great lady such as yourself ought not—”
“Very well.” She shoved the bag of garlic and various other pungent plants at her court jester. “You take them, and see that you put them away properly.”
He straightened and refused to take the bag from her, quirking up one side of his cheek. “Down the rear stairwell, turn left, and you will undoubtedly collide with several members of the kitchen staff—all anxious to do your bidding.”
“Thank you.” She spun on her heel and walked away from him, making certain she did not sway her hips. Such a thing would be wasted on him. Well... perhaps a little sway in one’s walk was perfectly natural, as long as one did it gracefully. She glanced back over her shoulder and was rewarded with his wickedly mocking grin.
Later, in the privacy of her room she sorted through her gowns and laid out three on her bed. Which one was most suitable for a viscount’s table? Which was her most attractive? It ought not be a difficult decision given the fact that there were only three suitable gowns, and one Valen had already seen. Indeed, he had a coat that matched it superbly. Well, perhaps ‘superb’ wasn’t an apt description. And, in actuality, he no longer had the coat. She did. Nevertheless, the point stood. That particular gown was out.
Servants entered, carrying a luxurious copper tub, and filled it with buckets of invitingly warm water. As soon as they left, Elizabeth disrobed
