Page 42 of The Banished Bride
She kept her eyes averted so she could didn’t have to see how the snug cut of his coat set off the muscled breadth of his shoulders, or how the stripe of his slubbed silk waistcoat picked up the exact shade of his eyes. “I assume you would prefer a truce for the moment.”
“I was going to suggest something of the sort.”
Her fingers tightened on the smooth curves of fired clay. “Why? That is, why exactly are you here, sir?”
Alex made as if to speak, but stopped as his eyes traveled from the narrow silk sash of her stylish day dress to the rucked bodice, which revealed a good deal more creamy skin than her former gowns were wont to show. He cleared his throat, letting his gaze drift up to the loose knot of curls that her new lady’s maid had arranged to graze against one bare shoulder. “You know, with all the, er, distractions of yesterday I neglected to mention how … well you look.”
The figurine fell to the thick Axminster carpet.
“I was worried about you,” he continued in a low voice. “Even now, I have a Runner out searching for you, to ensure that you made it safely to wherever it is you call home.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his. “But you needn’t have troubled. I-I told you on more than several occasions that I was quite used to taking care of myself.”
“Yes. So you did.”
Confused by the rawness in his voice, Aurora looked away again. “I must also remark that you clean up rather nicely, Major Woodmore,” she said after an awkward moment of silence, hoping that a note of dry humor might serve to ease the tension that had crept into both of their words.
The comment did indeed evoke a twitch of his lips. “As my talents at rinsing linen or stropping a razor are, as you know, rather rudimentary, it does make a difference to have a skilled scullery maid and valet at one’s service.”
“Ah, the advantages of being an earl.” Lord, how she had missed their easy banter. She bent down to retrieve what she had dropped in order to hide the spasm of longing that suddenly twisted her features. “But I imagine you did not come here to discuss sartorial matters, my lord.”
“No.” Alex clasped his hands behind his back. “I came to apologize for what I said yesterday,” he said in a halting voice. “The situation took me by surprise, to say the least, and I’m afraid that the shock of it caused me to let fly with some words that, well, that I wish I might recall. I didn’t mean them as they sounded.”
“My own conduct was far from exemplary, sir. I fear my temper also got the better of me, and I uttered a number of things that were … unfair.” She drew in a deep breath as she shoved the small figurine into her pocket. “Considering all things, perhaps we may both be excused for a certain lapse in judgment.”
He studied the tilt of her profile, a thoughtful expression spreading over his lean features. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”
Aurora forced a cheerful face. She imagined that, apologies made, he meant to take himself off, maybe for good. The prospect of never seeing his face again should have her feeling not merely cheerful, but ecstatic. “Good!” she said in a voice so brittle she feared it might break. “We have that settled, so you need not give us another thought, sir. Now that the papers are signed, Robbie and I can go home. And you can go about doing … whatever it is that titled lords do in Town.”
A look of faint amusement flashed in his eyes. “As I am rather new to the job, I have not the slightest idea what those things are.”
“Oh.” Her lips pursed. “Well, given the broad range of your other skills, I am sure you will pick up the knack of it very quickly.”
He gave a little cough. “Actually there is something else I wish to discuss.” His gaze strayed pointed to the plump sofa facing two claw footed wings chairs. “Might we sit down?”
The color rose to her cheeks on realizing how sadly lacking in drawing room manners she had shown herself to be. It would serve her right if he thought her nothing more than a churlish country hoyden. “Of course,” she said through gritted teeth, reminding herself that his opinion of her mattered not a whit.
Aurora sat down on the sofa and with what she hoped was a graceful wave of her hand indicated he should take the facing chair. To her dismay, he ignored the gesture and took a seat close by her side. So close that his thigh threatened to crush the folds of her skirts. Somehow the nearness of his person, despite the layers of cloth between them, was making her skin feel even warmer.
She essayed a deep breath to steady her nerves, but that proved a big mistake. The scent of bay rum and woodsy herbs, coupled with an unmistakable undertone of Alex himself, filled her lungs. The effect on her senses was like that of a bottle of brandy being downed in one hurried gulp. The sofa seemed to be listing heavily to the left and she felt herself sliding slowly toward the intricate knot of his cravat.
“A pleasant spot, isn’t it not?”
“What?” she gasped, finding that the notion of her nose coming to rest with an ignominous thud in his linen was not a pleasant one at all. Determined not be make a complete cake of herself, she managed to regain a measure of control and remain upright. With a small flounce, she threw her shoulders back against the damask cushions, as if she had merely been seeking a more comfortable position.
“The room,” he replied mildly. “I have always thought Aunt Letitia’s morning room to be an extremely cheery place, especially when the sun comes through the windows just so.”
Aurora eyed him warily. His arm had been thrown negligently along the carved back of the sofa so that his hand was nearly brushing the nape of her neck. Drat the man! How could he sit there looking so utterly composed when all she could think about was how much she longed for those long, lithe fingers to skim a light caress over the exposed skin and then entwine themselves in the very depth of her curls?
A series of little shivers shuddered up and down her spine, and to cover up she was forced to jab at one of the cushions with her elbow.
“Is something causing you discomfort?” asked Alex blandly. “I should be happy to fetch an extra pillow?”
“No need,” she muttered. Resolved to match his cool composure, she affected a look of studied indifference and brushed at a minute wrinkle on her sleeve. “Just a small lump, but it’s taken care of.” Her hands rearranged themselves primly on her lap. “If you don’t mind, sir,” she said briskly. “Perhaps we could get on with it—you said you had another matter to discuss.”
“Hmmm. Yes, I did.” It seemed, however, that he was in no hurry to speak. He crossed his leg, shifting his thigh ever closer to hers.
She crabbed sideways several inches. “Well?”
