Page 45 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
He shrugged. “My mother had a friend. A woman like her who had a protector.”
She held up her hand, thinking of the things he was saying. Not just his past, but his mother’s past. She pushed to her feet.
“I’ve got tea inside. My own special blend. Even the vicar likes it. Will you come share a drink with me?”
His brows arched in surprise. He hadn’t thought she’d be so accommodating. Neither had she, but his words were private and should be shared in private. Plus, he knew things about the London elite. Things she wanted to know. It only helped her cause to be nice to him.
“I’ll expect you to act honorably,” she added.
He gave her a respectful bow. “I will not break faith with you again.” Then he flushed. “At least not so quickly.” And when she looked hard at him, he shrugged. “What I want from you hasn’t changed.”
That set her heart pounding. “I’m a lady, Mr. Hallowsby.”
He gave her a mocking bow. “Even so.”
She felt her face heat, her mind twisting in on itself. Never had she been so intrigued by a man, not even Charlie, the man she planned to marry. Mr. Hallowsby was so damned exciting.
She did her best not to react outwardly to his words, though her skin felt hot and her hands would not settle. She covered by leading him into her home, pausing long enough to look about her. Her neighbors would gossip, but none were about.
“You’ll not speak of this?” she asked as they made it to her door.
“Of having tea with a lady?”
“In her home all alone.”
“No, Miss Bluebell, I will not.”
“Then please,” she said as she swept open her door. “Come inside.”
Chapter Nine
Every bastard has a tale of woe. Don’t fall for it. Unless you want tofall…
Bram’s goal whencoming to see Miss Bluebell was to apologize. And to explain his history with charming, manipulative blonds.
Well, that had been his outward goal. Stepping now into her tidy little home—complete with a neat little bed—he realized his true desire hadn’t changed. He meant to bed her and expunge her beauty, her blond curls, and her sweet bow-shaped mouth from his thoughts.
His apology was only for show. Or because his approach had been angry rather than seductive.
“You know,” he said as he shut the door, “you may be a lady, but I am not a proper gentleman.”
“But you can act it, can’t you?” she asked as she crossed to the kitchen.
He followed, happy to explore this small place she’d lived all her life. He saw touches of her everywhere, mostly in the plants set out to dry on every surface and rafter. Her kitchen was really a stillroom.
“You need a shed for this,” he said, gesturing to the lavender that sweetened the air.
“I use Mr. Bray’s shed for much of my work. He lets me have a corner of it in return for helping his wife. She’s overworked with all the children. I bring the lavender here because I like thesmell.” Then, after stripping off her smock, she knelt to start the cooking fire.
He moved to her side because he wanted to be near her. When she looked up in curiosity, he shrugged. “Let me make the fire. You get the water.”
She nodded, then set about the domestic chore. She worked efficiently, her skirt swishing about her ankles, and her hair curling sweetly about her temples. There was little enough light from the window, but once the fire was burning, he lit candles, then relaxed to watch her move. Not work, just move. He hadn’t realized until now how her entire body was a symphony of grace. The easy length of her fingers, the upward curve of her smile, and the seductive shift of hips and breasts as she went about her tasks.
He enjoyed himself immensely, his imagination stripping away her clothing until she worked completely naked. Flushed, pert, and strong. She was a woman who had solidity, and in bed she would be an athletic partner, so unlike the frail creatures of theton.
Her words interrupted his reverie. Not her voice. That was all sweet music. But her words were inconsistent with his fantasy, and it took him a moment to recover.
“What?”
