Page 35 of The Marquis, the Minx, and the Mistletoe
She said it so petulantly that despite the erotic charge of her words, he found himself grinning at her snit. "I would rather enjoy the effort of hauling you into a great many places," he confessed, which made her spin around to glare at him. "I think I could make rather easy work of it."
"Oh, is that so?" she retorted. "Is that your general manner with women, Sheldon Bywater? Do you simply sling them over your shoulder and march them off to bed?"
"It has been known to happen," he replied, unable to stifle a chuckle at her deepening glower. "Do you find the image unappealing?"
"I think we both know that I do not!" she snapped, crossing her arms tightly in front of her, with a splash of pink across her cheeks either at her own temper or at the shocking impropriety of what she had just confessed.
Silence hung between them for a moment, for Sheldon did not trust himself to speak and could not seem to lower his eyebrows from where they had shot into his hairline.
She tapped her fingers against her arm, seemingly more from nervousness than impatience. "I have thought about it," she said, softer, though she made no move to sit or relax from her rigid posture, "and as I said, I am already ruined, and I do not want to die an old woman, never touched."
"Is that all it is?" he asked darkly.
She sighed and shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "You know that it is not. You feel it too, this tug between us, do you not? Or is your behavior simply what any man would do when presented with a woman who clearly wants him?"
He pressed his lips into a line. While the deepest part of him wished to be offended by the mere suggestion of such a thing, what was left of his reason knew that it was a sensible enough suspicion. "I pursued you," he reminded her, "when all you 'clearly wanted' was for me to go to Hades."
That was the blow that penetrated her armor. Her lips twitched, lashes lowering in acknowledgement of that bygone autumn, in which she had fought her feelings with a shield of naked hostility. "I am sorry for that," she whispered, chastened.
"I am not," he replied, lacing his fingers together and dropping his hands behind his head. "It was a rousing challenge, and the best part of that entire event. The best part of that entire year, truth be told. And in the end, I did get to kiss you."
"Yes, you did," she agreed, the corners of her lips curling into a reluctant little smile, "and it ruined my life."
"Well, I won't pretend I don't find that oddly flattering," he returned, chuckling at the roll of her eyes. "Am I to take it that you blame fleeing your imminent rise to baroness on a kiss from over a year ago?"
"Maybe I do," she said with a shrug. "It is ultimately my fault, regardless of my reasoning. I ran and I came here because I hoped you would be here too, and you are, and we will likely never have another opportunity like the one this storm has presented."
As though it had heard her and wished to celebrate its part in their interlude, the wind whipped itself against the walls of Somerton, a low roll of thunder rumbling underneath the wail. Echo gave a half-hearted whine, to which the wind answered with another whistling gust of frigid air. This seemed to mollify his dog, who lowered her head onto her paws with a huff.
"There, there," said Tia, frowning at the dog and lowering from her posture of defense to lay a comforting hand on her head.
"What opportunity is it that you're speaking of?" he asked, only because he wanted to hear her say it.
She shot him a look, evidently seeing right through his feigned ignorance, but finding it only vaguely tiresome rather than outright offensive. When he smirked at her, she lowered her eyes again to the dog, setting her wine glass behind her on the hearth, and said to Echo, "You must miss your big, lovely bed."
"Not as much as I do," he answered, as she doubtlessly had intended.
"Mm, it is a very nice bed," she agreed, stifling a delicate yawn behind her fingers. "I think the morning's exertions have made me desire a nap. Is it a good bed for napping, do you think?"
"Oh, the very best," he replied, his blood heating in his veins. "Particularly when the servants are too busy to bother with the hallways nearby. The silence and privacy are ideal."
"Mm, that sounds just the thing," she murmured, looking at him from beneath her lashes as a pair of servants entered to clear up the remains of their meal. "I think I shall go and indulge in afternoon respite, Lord Moorvale, if you will excuse me."
"I will," he replied, throat dry. "It is a good notion, after such a hectic day."
She did not respond, floating from the room with that same little tune hummed under her breath as she made her way up the stairs and into his bed.
For Sheldon's part, he sat perfectly still for a while, until such a time arrived as he trusted himself to stand, and follow her.
Chapter 17
What was she doing?
Had she gone mad?
Tia paced at the foot of the large bed in Lord Moorvale's green bedroom, a bedroom that had become her own. For reasons beyond fathoming, she was suddenly concerned that she had made a fool of herself or elsewise a giant mistake. She had a shift laid out on the foot of her bed, a fire in the hearth, and blankets piled up, readily inviting for a nap she had no intention of taking. That entire exchange belowstairs felt like it had been a dream.
Surely it hadn't been Tia herself saying such bold things to Sheldon Bywater?
