She was beautiful, but then he’d always found that to be true about her. Whether she’d been angry at him for carting away her beloved horse, grief-stricken for the same reason, overjoyed at the sight of Sophie, standing toe-to-toe against women who wished her harm, gathering children about her like a mother hen with her chicks, defending his dream to his sister—
The beauty wasn’t so much in the shape of her mouth, the curve of her chin, the slope of her nose, the green of her eyes. It came from something that flowed from deep within her, something that sometimes brought a glow to her skin or a blush at other times. Something fierce, strong, and undeterred by any obstacles that might have been placed in her way.
“That gown needs a necklace to set it off,” he told her now.
Her hand—so small, so delicate, when compared to his—came up, her fingers landing in the hollow at her throat. “I’d have once thought so as well, but I have no interest in jewels any longer. I wore a pearl necklace on the day I was to wed. I sold it, so I’d have funds for purchasing children.” She shook her head. “That’s a ghastly thing to say, an awful way to word it.”
“You’re not really purchasing children, making slaves of them.”
“I suppose not. It’s just a sad state of affairs that we live in a world where something like that happens.”
“I thought things like jewelry were passed down through generations. Did the pieces you wore on your wedding day have no sentimental value?”
She took a slow sip of her wine, licked her lips. “My father gave the pieces to me on the day I was presented to the queen, not so much out of love but obligation. It was expected. He didn’t present them to me directly. As I recall, my maid brought them to me in his stead. If I’d married Thornley, I might have passed them down to my daughter, although I suspect he’d have purchased pearls for her. I don’t mean to pry, but Gillie looked to be in the family way.”
“She is.”
“They’ve only been married a few weeks so... I’m glad he did right by her.”
“He didn’t marry her because she was with child. He didn’t even know when he proposed.”
“Would she have kept it, do you think? If they hadn’t married?”
“Without a doubt.”
“She’s a strong woman, your sister.”
“Stubborn, more like. She knows what she wants, and you’ll have no luck convincing her otherwise. And unlike a lot of women who find themselves in her situation, she has the means to make her own way. She has a very successful business, and she’s put money aside. Before long, you’ll be as successful.”
She laughed lightly, a sound that wound its way through his chest, tightening it. “I can’t imagine it. Women of my station don’t work. They get pin money but it’s not enough to make a difference. We marry. We go from the care of our fathers to the care of our husbands. It terrified me, running from the church. I hadn’t thought it through completely. To be honest, I don’t know that I thought being your partner through completely either.”
“You can always walk away.”
“I’m not that foolish.”
He bent toward her, wanting the conversation to move on. “So tell me. Do you prefer the candles or the chandeliers?”
She glanced around as though giving it serious thought, before returning her attention to him and leaning toward him until he could see the reflection of the flames flickering in the dark center of her eyes. “Since only ladies will be dining in here, I should think the chandeliers alone would suffice. I suppose you could open the dining room to men.”
“I suspect most would never get this far once they spotted the gaming tables.”
“Perhaps the ladies could use the gaming room as a gauntlet to test their lovers’ devotion.”
Settling back in his chair, he studied her for a long moment. “Put temptation before him, and see if he can ignore it in order to be with the lady to whom he recites sonnets?”
Her lips curled up into a wicked but enticing grin. “Something like that.”
“Perhaps he would pass through the gauntlet without making a single wager because he was hungry, starving, in fact. How would she know?”
Her laughter was like bells tinkling, sprites dancing on petals, real and magical at the same time. “And which are you? Devoted or hungry?”
“If you have to ask, then I’m making a rather poor effort at it.”
She meant for it to be a joke, something to laugh about, to tease each other over later—but the look he gave her was indeed that of a man who was hungry, ravenous, in fact, but it wasn’t food he sought or a belly that was in need of sustenance. His intense stare was that of a hunter who had sighted his quarry, a predator who was accustomed to capturing what he sought, to holding on to it, to claiming it.
She had an insane urge to run—but that had always been her answer. Planning to run off with him because she hated her life with the family, the future they’d mapped out for her. Running away from Thornley for the same reasons. Afraid, always afraid to stand her ground. But here was this man who had lost five years of his life because of her, looking at her as though no time had passed at all. No, that wasn’t true. He’d never looked at her like this, as though he could devour her and make her grateful he had, as though everything he’d ever wanted was within reach, if she would just stand her ground.
Nearly jumping out of her skin as a footman set a bowl of soup in front of her, she was grateful his intrusion forced her to break eye contact with Finn. The hold he had on her was such that she wasn’t certain she’d have had the strength to look away. “My, this looks delicious.” Reaching for her glass, she was dismayed to find her hand trembling.
