He laughed, just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t recall having laughed so much with one single human being. Life had always been rather difficult.
And Meggie thought it was as if he laughed only when he planned to and surely that was rather calculated and cold-blooded. She watched him closely as he said, “Actually, I set that glass there beside the orchid so I would know when it was safe to return to the drawing room. It isn’t trembling either now.” He smiled down at her. “Let’s see if your finger has stopped bleeding yet.”
He unwound the handkerchief and lifted her hand to inspect the finger. “Yes, it has.”
Meggie said, “Thank you, my lord. Perhaps I don’t know all the ways of the world, but I have never before had anyone suck my blood. Or lick my finger.”
He felt a lurch in his gut; it was lust and it hit him hard. He looked at her closely, realizing that she didn’t understand the teasing promise of her guileless words, didn’t realize that they promised, on the surface at least, a woman’s very pleasurable skills. No, she was outspoken, a vicar’s daughter, just turned nineteen. “No?” he said slowly, then added, “Then I have added to your education.”
She said abruptly, “My father will wonder where I am,” and she turned to go. “Sharing sanctuary was pleasant, my lord.”
She was just going to leave him? Another blow to his manhood. “Miss Sherbrooke, a moment please. Will you ride with me tomorrow morning?”
That got her attention, but she didn’t hesitate, just said pleasantly, “I thank you for the invitation, my lord, but no, I don’t want to ride with you tomorrow morning.”
He looked as she’d slapped him, as if he simply couldn’t believe her gall in turning him down. He looked, quite simply, flummoxed. She wanted to smile at his obvious male conceit, but she didn’t. She just wanted to leave. She realized now that she shouldn’t have remained in here, alone with him. He had gotten the wrong idea about her. She didn’t want any attention from him, she didn’t want any attention from any man. She wouldn’t have stayed in here with him if she’d been in London, but this was her home. No matter, she’d been wrong.
He saw her withdraw completely from him. He didn’t understand it. She’d been so confiding, so natural. But no longer. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, he persevered. “I understand from my steward, a very old man with fingers that tap by themselves when the weather is going to turn bad, that it will be unseasonably warm tomorrow morning, a fine morning for a ride.”
“Mr. Hengis is famed for his weather predictions in these parts. I did not know about the tapping fingers. I hope it will be a fine morning and you will enjoy yourself. As for me, no thank you, my lord. I must go now.”
He said as she turned to leave the conservatory, “I understand you enjoyed your first Season in London last spring. Do you intend to return to London in April?”
“No,” she said, not turning to face him. She could feel his frustration, pouring off him in waves, and something else. Why did he wish to be with her so badly? It made no sense. “Goodbye, my lord.”
“My name is Thomas.” She would swear she heard a damn you under his breath.
“Yes,” she said, “I know,” and left the Strapthorpe conservatory with its dizzying smells and hair-wilting heat.
He stood there, watching the back of her head as she walked quickly out of the overly warm room. Lovely hair, he thought, blondish brownish hair with every color inbetween thrown in, the same hair as the vicar’s, her father. Their eyes were the same light blue as well. He sighed, then left the conservatory some minutes after her. Truth be told, he was getting nauseated from the overpowering mix of all the flowers.
He met several guests in the large entrance hall. Meggie Sherbrooke wasn’t among them. Damn her. He wasn’t a troll. What was wrong with her? He was polite and charming to everyone before he took his leave.