Page 57 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
But he had tied her in knots with kisses.
No, he’d seduced her, almost, and the end would have been the same, only instead of his head in a noose like Agruen’s valet could expect, he’d have his leg in a shackle and this great house to take on.
Would it be so bad?
“I confess, I’m curious.”
Her voice brought him around. Curious. That was it. She’d been curious last night, yes, that had been part of it, not just the great power of his kissing or this pull between them. Would she act thus with another man because she was curious? Certainly, she hadn’t with Agruen.
She kicked her mount and trotted off behind Thomas.
He shook off the tendrils of jealousy. Of course there’d be other men who could stir her. And it was not for him to tie down this sprite who wanted so much to experience life.
Inside the manorwas not so bad, at least not by Gibson standards. Old-fashioned, yes, it was, with its ornate carvings and gilded décor. Faded, yes—the draperies were patterned with diamond shapes bleached by the sun. And when the Holland cloth covers came off in clouds of dust, the upholstery was worn in places also.
“This must have been a favorite chair.” Paulette stared down at the huge wingback, its cushions sagging, the arms threadbare. She glanced at him, eyes glittering. “For a man as large as yourself.”
Hackwell hovered nearby. “Miss Heardwyn is right. Try it out, Gibson.”
He bit his lip. “Let’s get on with this.”
Below stairs was next, a tour of the service areas and kitchen, and his steward’s mind ticked through the amenities. A Rumsfeld stove had been installed and a water closet added. The butler’s pantry still held a complete dinner service.
The caretaker noticed his interest. “The house conveyed with all the furnishings, dishes, and linens, many relatively new and in good repair.”
“And they are still here,” Hackwell said.
“I could have wished for the funds to make more repairs, but I’ve kept a good eye on the place.”
Indeed he had. Perhaps he could recruit the caretaker to manage Hackwell’s properties when he himself left for India.
The second and third floors were next, with more parlors, and a generous number of bedchambers. An airing, a thorough cleaning, and the bedrooms would do as they were for a few more years.
The caretaker led him up a smaller flight of stairs. “There are servants’ chambers above in the attic, and this floor is the schoolroom and nursery.”
His head buzzed as he surveyed the sunlit room. It was much like the nursery at Cransdall, with more beds crowded in. Five child-sized cots, two cribs and an assortment of furniture and toys occupied the large open room. Paulette’s eyes brightened and she pressed her hands at her waist, her lips together. When their eyes met, hers shimmered. “It was a large family, I suppose. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She colored deeply and looked away.
Desire sparked in him again. “Indeed. And very jolly, by the look of those worn out hobby horses. Raced them, I’d warrant.”
A smile lit her face. “How many children—” Her gasp made him turn.
Hackwell, Thomas, and the caretaker were gone. He ducked into the corridor and heard them moving around upstairs.
Excitement thrummed in him. He was alone with a woman who he’d heartily kissed less than twenty-four hours ago. Alone in a bedchamber of sorts, talking about how many children might fill it.
Damned managing Hackwell. Paulette should not be in here alone with him.
She ducked her chin, looked everywhere but at him, and finally stepped to an open door leading off from the nursery. He followed her.
This was another bedchamber, for the nursery maids, probably, with a bed big enough to accommodate two.
Paulette sat down upon it. His heart beat a staccato.
She leapt up, paced to the window, peered through the wavy glass.
When she turned, she’d set her mouth and clasped her hands in front of her.
“Mr. Gibson, you do not wish to marry. You wish to go to India. Is that correct?”
Her voice shook, the trembling lighting up the air around him. He moved a step closer. “That was the plan, yes.”
Wasthe plan. He could see that wordwastriggering some strong emotion in her.
“I know I’ve been adamant about going to London, which I still will do. I must see…well, not for social reasons. I know I’ll never be part of theton, but to be able to take care of my business, and perhaps visit a famous place or two, and shop…”
She gazed at a spot on the wall and cleared her throat. “I have a proposal, Mr. Gibson. It will serve us both and answer to Bakeley once and for all.”
