After serving Ailis her broth, he ladled a hearty stew into his bowl, and then tore each of them a chunk of bread that was warm because it was fresh out of the oven.
He studied Ailis as she sipped her broth and tried to avoid wetting her sleeve every time she dipped her spoon in the bowl.
She looked up and smiled at him. “This is delicious.”
He could say the same about her. She looked good enough to eat.
Or kiss, if he managed a stolen moment alone with her later.
But no. He dared not kiss her today. She had suffered a bump to her head in addition to a dislocated shoulder. The newly formed bruising was hardly visible, only a slight purplish discoloration at her brow. However, she exhibited all the signs of a mild concussion, and he was not going to take this lightly.
Nausea and a slight case of vertigo were symptoms of her falling and striking her head. She had suffered a little from both overnight, Martha had reported to him this morning.
Despite being a bit wobbly as he led her to the table for their repast, Ailis now seemed in fairly good spirits while they ate and chatted. No sign of dizziness or stomach discomfort.
And she was a talkative little thing, but not overly so. He spoke almost as much as she did, and they did not seem to lack for interesting conversation. Jonas was surprised how easily they shared each other’s company, neither one minding if they fell into a silent stretch.
“I have an extensive library,” he mentioned, swallowing a bite of his stew and glancing out the window to check on the snowfall that had yet to abate since starting yesterday afternoon. “I could have Mrs. Fitch bring up a few books for you to read if you are bored.”
“That would be lovely. I suppose they are mostly books on history or the sciences. Art, perhaps? Philosophy? Poetry?Military tactics and ancient battles? My brothers particularly loved those.”
He nodded. “Yes, all of those.”
“So, nothing improper or too scandalous?”
His lips twitched at the corners in the hint of a smile. “Nothing that I would ever dare show you. I do have some adventure stories that might interest you. What exactly are you looking for?”
“Oh, nothing in particular.”
“Ailis,” he said softly, “I can see by the glint in your eyes that you would like something more lurid than the history of cattle farming. Something along the lines of an Ann Radcliffe novel, perhaps? I have the complete volumes ofThe Mysteries of Udolpho. Heroine in peril. Ominous castle. Dark and stormy night. Handsome and valorous hero to rescue the fair damsel and declare his undying love for her? Although the fair damsel might have rescued herself in that story.”
She smiled with genuine mirth. “And what is wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. Did I say there was?”
“Yes, you spoke with your laughing eyes.”
He grinned. “I’m sure I did not.”
Perhaps he did find the notion of such a dramatic love quite amusing.
But he was not trying to condescend. He liked this quietly passionate side to Ailis.
Well, he always knew she had passion. But it was all directed toward helping the poor and nothing to do with her own pleasures. She would be quite something if he ever took her into his bed.
Of course, she was there already.
Buthewasn’t in it with her.
Nor could he ever think of sharing a night with her, of stripping off those ugly layers of mismatched clothes and kissing every inch of her soft skin, inhaling the scent of her warm body, and—
Dear heaven.
He would enjoy tasting Ailis. She made him think of apples and autumn spices whenever he was around her.
Had he gone demented?
“You wouldn’t happen to have some gossip rags, would you?” she asked, unaware of the path his thoughts had taken him.
