Page 114 of Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

“But not nearly as difficult.”

She looked at him with a cool expression. “At the moment, I would have to concur.”

“Ouch.” He smiled, but without much humor. Much being a bit of an overstatement.

She did not respond, which for some reason needled him. And so—even though he knew he was being an ass—he leaned over, peering down at her hands.

She pulled them back immediately. “What are your doing?”

“Checking for claws,” he replied, his very voice a smirk.

She stood. Abruptly. “You are not yourself.”

It was enough to make him laugh. “You’ve only just realized?”

“I’m not talking about your name,” she shot back.

“Oh, it must be my charming attitude and aspect, then.”

Her lips pinched. “You are not usually so sarcastic.”

Good Lord. What did she expect from him? “Pray have a bit of sympathy, Lady Amelia. Am I permitted at least a few hours to mourn the loss of everything I hold dear?”

She sat, but her movements were gingerly, and she did not look comfortable in her position. “Forgive me.” Her jaw clenched, and she swallowed before she said, “I should be more understanding.”

He let out an aggravated breath, rubbing his hand over his eye and forehead. Damn, he was tired. He hadn’t slept the night before, not a wink, and at least an hour of his wakefulness had been spent in the rather uncomfortable state of wanting her. And now she was acting like this?

“Don’t beg my forgiveness,” he said, exhausted by the whole thing.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. He suspected she’d been about to apologize for apologizing.

He took another drink.

Again, she did not take the hint. “What will you do?”

“This afternoon?” he murmured, knowing full well that wasn’t what she meant.

She gave him a peeved look.

“I don’t know,” he said irritably. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Well, yes, but you’ve been thinking about it for over a week. And on the boat you seemed quite certain that this would be the outcome.”

“It’s not the same.”

“But—”

“For God’s sake, Amelia, will you let well enough alone?”

She drew back, and he instantly regretted his outburst. But not enough to apologize for it.

“I should go,” she said, her voice flat.

He certainly wasn’t going to stop her. Hadn’t he been trying to be rid of her? She would walk out that door, and he’d finally have some peace and quiet, and he wouldn’t have to just sit here, trying so hard not to look at her face.

At her mouth.

At that little spot on her lips that she liked to touch with her tongue when she was nervous.

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