Part 20 (1/2)
Turning away, he picked up a leftover jam tart from one of the serving plates and ate it as he settled into the side chair Thalia had pointed out to him earlier. ”So? How shall we entertain ourselves this afternoon?”
”We are not doing anything. You can drink your tea, then leave me to read and rest.”
Not at all as I'd imagined, he thought once again. She had such spirit, whatever she may or may not have done in the past. He liked women with spirit.
He liked her.
”I thought after last night you'd be less p.r.i.c.kly,” he said with an idle tilt of his head. ”I see I shall have to find ways to loosen you up again.”
She sighed, then looked down, her fingers picking absently at her shawl fringe. She did that when she was nervous, he'd noticed.
Do I make her nervous?
”Leo?”
”Yes?” he drawled.
”About what happened between us. I know you may now presume that we are lovers-”
”We are lovers,” he said softly.
”Yes, but that doesn't mean we must continue to be. I am not certain . . . that is, I do not know-”
”Did you not enjoy my touch?”
Her eyes met his, their color very brown. ”You know I did.”
”Then I do not see a problem. So long as we give each other pleasure, then how is it hurting anyone? You are unenc.u.mbered and so am I. Or is that what you're trying to tell me? That there is someone else?”
”No,” she said with obvious surprise. ”There is no one.”
A tension he hadn't known he felt eased inside him, followed by a surge of satisfaction. ”Good. When I take a lover, I like to keep her all to myself, exclusively. I will expect the same from you. No other men.”
”I told you, there's no one.” She took a deep breath. ”As for the rest, I haven't decided whether I want to be with you-or rather continue to be with you. I need time.”
”And you may have it, within reason. There is still our original two weeks-less three days, of course. I won't hurry you. Well, not too much,” he amended with a smile. ”Besides, I want you fully healed and back on your feet the next time we make love. That way, I can safely tumble you off of them again.”
Tiny lines formed between her brows. ”Leo, I-”
A faint rattling of china sounded in the hallway. ”If I'm not mistaken, our tea is arriving,” he said. ”You stay where you are. I'll take care of everything.”
”Just a small cup for me,” Thalia told Leo once Fletcher and the housemaid who had accompanied him laid the fresh service, then departed. ”This is the second tea for me today, if you will remember. I already dined with Tilly.”
”Then I shall have to do my best to eat heartily from the delicious selection Mrs. Grove prepared,” he said. ”Her fare is too good to be wasted.”
True to his word, he filled his plate, then resumed his seat so he could make inroads.
Slowly, she sipped her hot tea and took pleasure watching him enjoy his own. He ate with the enthusiasm of a boy, yet the refined manners and appet.i.te of a man. And he was all man, whatever his chronological age might be.
At that thought, the nagging question returned, the one she'd been wondering about in the back of her head since the first night they'd met. ”How old are you, Leo?”
He stopped eating and met her gaze. ”Now, where did that come from?”
”I don't know,” she hedged. ”I am just curious, I suppose.”
Taking up his napkin, he wiped his mouth, then laid his plate aside. ”How old do you think I am?”
She regarded him, letting her gaze move over his long masculine frame and the chiseled planes of his handsome face, his green-gold eyes glinting with amused interest as he awaited her p.r.o.nouncement.
”Eight-and-twenty?” she said, trying for what she hoped was a guess on the younger side. That way she would be pleased when he told her he was older.
”Not a bad estimation. I am five-and-twenty.”
Her eyes widened, rounding for a few seconds while she absorbed his unnerving statement.
”How old are you?” he inquired quietly.
She stared at him for a long moment, then set her cup and saucer onto a nearby table. ”That is a very rude question to ask a woman.”
”You asked me.”
”Yes, and you are not a woman.”
”I fail to see what difference that makes.”
”Well, it does.” She tugged at her shawl, abruptly disgruntled.
”I know you are older than I,” he said. ”I've always known and I like that. Girls just out of the schoolroom bore me. Mature women don't.”
”Mature women,” she repeated in a lowering tone. ”So I am mature, am I? You make me sound like an elderly matron. You are not helping your case, Lord Leopold.”
”And you are not listening to the fact that I find you alluring and beautiful and far from matronly. Your years, whatever they may be-and I do not believe they are much greater than my own-serve only to increase my interest. What are you? Eight-and-twenty? Nine-and-twenty?”
Seconds ticked past while she debated whether to answer. Yet, as he said, what difference did it really make? Their ages were their ages and could not be altered. And it wasn't as if this tenuous relations.h.i.+p they were forming had the least chance of lasting. He would be gone from her life before he turned another year older, so why should she care if he knew her age?
”I am one-and-thirty, nearly two-and-thirty. My birthday is next month.”
”One-and-thirty, hmm? Well, you are ancient,” he teased.
Her lips tightened. ”That is not funny.”
”No. It's absurd, that's what it is. You are a vibrant, healthy young woman, Thalia, who is only now coming into the fullest part of her life. I think you're magnificent. You are magnificent. Why else would I have been chasing after you all these weeks?”
”Yes, but-”
”But what?” He stood and came close enough to lean over her, bracing one arm on the back of the sofa and the other next to her head. ”You're always looking for an excuse to keep me at bay, but a small difference in our ages doesn't matter, not to me.”
”It's more than small,” she insisted. ”It's almost seven years. You were still a little boy being tutored at home when I was saying my wedding vows.”