Page 141 of The Lord Meets His Lady
He helped Ruby to her feet, and the young woman, in turn, fussed with her skirt.
Her lips thinned. “Your brother is here to collect you.”
“Yes, miss. Will you need us tomorrow?”
“Yes, I will. And, Ruby…”
“Y-yes?”
“Keep to your tasks,” she said softly.
Ruby scurried from the room, her heels clicking fast as she tore down the stairs.
Marcus set the bucket by the hearth. “It’s not what you think.”
“How can you possibly know what I think?”
“I can read your face.”
“Read my face?What am I, a book?” Her cheeks burned. She clasped her hands waist high and waited until irritating tremors abated. She lived her life on an even keel; this tinderbox of high emotions threatened to devour her the way fire scorched those who got too close.
Her husband’s stare dipped to her bosom before springing back to her face. “A lovely book. One I enjoy reading.”
Was he trying to placate her? Or did his roving eye and ready smile spring from pure amusement at her scalding sprite of jealousy? For that was surely what this was.
Hushed voices and footsteps pattered through the entry hall downstairs. Ruby was likely getting an earful from her sister. The cottage door shut, the firm thud echoing from below. Marcus rested a hand on the mantel, toeing a chunk of wood back into the fireplace. Bits of straw clung to his mussed hair. Ink smudged his fingers.
The post. She’d left it on the kitchen table.
“Milord—”
“Gen—”
They spoke at the same time.
“I thought we were going to be Marcus and Genevieve?”
“At the moment ‘milord’ seemed better.” Her tone was frosty.
He strode across the room and cupped her cheek. “I know what this is about. You’ve nothing to worry about. I was looking for a document. That’s all.”
“Miss Dutton hardly looks like paper.”
“I was distracted by my search when she begged entry to clean.”
“Whatkindof cleaning do you think she had in mind?”
Mouth quirking sideways, he searched her face. “You know she’s a flirt—”
“Sheis? Flirtation requires two people.”
The skin around his eyes softened. “You’re right. I’m as much to blame. My mind was elsewhere. She started jesting with me and I played along, thinking it harmless. I should’ve stopped.”
“You think so?”
His thumb stroked her chin with the lightest touch. He was gentling her. “I will set things right with our charwoman.”
She flinched. He saidouragain. A small but dangerous word spoken in a soothing voice. It hinted at a connection that would never be. Wind howled, bowing barren trees beyond his window. Aromas of wood and leather and hay clung to him, smells of Pallinsburn. Of home. And bone-deep content. She covered his caressing hand with hers, the fight draining from her.
