A Lady Never Tells(88)

“Why should I disapprove?” she countered. “Miss Dalrymple assured us that it is the natural order of things for a gentleman to eschew ladies’ company in order to spend time in a tavern, drinking and indulging in the sort of ‘low’ pursuits men are drawn to.”

He let out a crack of laughter. “Did she now? Exactly what ‘low’ pursuit was she accusing me of ?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I think she had a broad range in mind. The important thing was that it was not a young lady’s place to question where a gentleman went or what he did. It is better, you see, not to know.”#p#分页标题#e#

“Then I should keep it from your delicate ears.”

“Hah! Personally, I would like to know. Indeed, I deserve to know, for I can tell you that supper was excessively dull with only Miss Dalrymple for company.”

“I am honored that you consider me a livelier companion than Miss Dalrymple.” He paused, tilting his head to one side and studying her. “Truth be told, I did go to the tavern. It’s the hub of all activity in the village. I have sent my grooms there to see if any stranger has been seen in the area since we arrived—just to make sure that your mysterious intruder at the inn had not followed us. But the locals might not talk to outsiders like my grooms, so I decided to ask them myself.”

“Oh.” Mary had not considered this possibility, and she found that his explanation raised her spirits. “Then it was not because you have grown tired of the company of women?”

“That, my dear, would be the last thing I would grow tired of.” Again his endearing smile flashed across his face.

“I had thought you merely wanted to escape a boring social visit,” Mary teased. “But when I saw Lady Sabrina, I realized that surely that must not be the case.”

Something flickered in his eyes and was gone. He rose, finishing off his glass of port, and set it on the heavy sideboard that held the decanters of liquor. “I have known Lady Sabrina for a long time. I fear I have become inured to her charms. Yours, on the other hand, are far harder to resist.” He turned and leaned back against the sideboard, crossing one foot negligently over the other. “How is it, my lady, that I keep finding myself alone with you in a state of dishabille?”

“Oh!” Mary looked down at herself, and a blush heated her cheeks. “I-I should not have come here. I confess, I am not used to living in this sort of situation.”

“Neither am I. However, I cannot pretend to regret the way fate continues to throw us together. I am not that much of a gentleman.”

Mary lifted her gaze to his face. His words were light, but the look in his eyes was far different. There lay darkness and desire, the smoldering of a barely banked flame. An answering hunger stirred deep in Mary’s abdomen. She glanced away quickly, swallowing.

“I should leave.” Her voice came out a trifle shaky, and she dared not look again into Royce’s eyes.

She started to turn away, but in that instant Royce moved, crossing the space between them more quickly than she would have thought possible. His hand wrapped around her arm, and Mary looked up at him, startled. His eyes were heavy-lidded, so dark they were scarcely green, and desire was etched upon his features.

“No,” he said huskily. “Leaving is the last thing you should do.”





Chapter 17




Their mouths met and clung as he released her wrist and wrapped both arms around her. She could taste the lingering hint of port wine upon his tongue as they kissed again and again, feverishly. When his mouth at last left hers, it was to kiss his way across her face to nibble at her ear.

“I’ve been dying to do this ever since that night at the inn,” he murmured, the feather-light brush of his breath setting up shivers all through her. “It’s been sheer hell, being with you, seeing you at Iverley Hall—in my home, at my table, imagining you in my bed.” His mouth trailed its way down the side of her neck, tongue teasing at the delicate flesh, his teeth nipping at the cord of her throat. “And here, every night, knowing that you are just down the hall … I cannot sleep, thinking of walking those few steps. Coming into your room.”
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Mary let out a shaky sigh, arching her head back to allow him easier access to her throat. His words set her aflame almost as much as his kisses. She murmured his name and ran her hands up his arms, tangling her fingers in his thick hair. The textures of him aroused her—the soft lawn shirt, the muscle-padded skin of his neck, the silken way his hair slid through her hands.