“I do not believe it is necessary,” she said. “If you refer to your offer of marriage, that is. You asked; I said no.”
“For kissing you,” he said. “Without permission.Afteryou had refused my offer and it was unlikely you would welcome a kiss.”
She drew a breath and released it without saying anything.
“I was fortunate,” he said, “not to have my face slapped.”
“How did you get your broken nose?” she asked, and was appalled as she heard the words come out of her mouth. She had not even beenthinkingthem.
“You are imagining that perhaps someone elsedidslap me?” he asked her. “And very hard?”
“Please ignore the question,” she said. “It was impertinent.” The vegetable garden was not at the back of the house, but she could see now over to her left what looked like a knot garden close to the house. An herb garden, perhaps?
“I was unwise enough,” he said, “to suggest to a loudmouthed yokel in a village tavern that perhaps the barmaid did not enjoy being fondled as she delivered his ale. Another patron, altogether larger and more formidable than the loudmouth, took exception, not so much to what I said, but tohowI said it.Mr.La-di-da, he called me among other, less complimentary things. I made the mistake of inviting him to stay out of my business. I would like to say that I gave a good account of myself in the ensuing fight or that at least it lasted an hour while we slugged it out. Alas, it was not so. I went down within moments to ignominious defeat—and a face swollen beyond recognition. And a broken nose.”
She turned to look at him. “You were not an accidental hero in that particular incident, then?” she said.
“Neither accidental nor heroic, alas,” he said.
“Did you at least have the man arrested for assault?” she asked him.
Something happened to his very dark eyes. Theylaughed.Just for a moment, but she was sure she had not been mistaken.
“I realized sometime afterward,” he said, “that he quite purposely avoided damaging my teeth. It had to have been deliberate. Nothing else above my neck was spared. I do not believe I would have been so fortunate had I provoked a second fight—at that point in my history at least. Perhaps not even later. No, there was no official complaint and no arrest. He became my best friend.”
Oh.
“Lord Brandon,” she said. “I have the feeling that if you were to write your own story, it might be twelve volumes long. Perhaps longer.”
“Ah,” he said. “But would you wish to read it, Lady Estelle?”
His eyes were no longer laughing or even smiling. They were fathoms deep. It would be awfully easy to lose herself in them, Estelle thought, a little horrified. Whateverthatmeant.
“It would have to be written first,” she said.
“By which time you would be an old lady seated by your fireside, your grandchildren gathered about your knee,” he said. “But perhaps it would not be suitable reading for them.”
She drew a breath. “Did you steal the countess’s jewelry?” she asked him.
“Ah,” he said, and his eyes narrowed somewhat. “You are picturing me living a life of luxury for six years at the very best inns on their proceeds, are you? Perhaps simplybuyingthe inns so that I would not have to share them with lesser mortals?”
His hands were clasped behind his back. He stood with his booted feet apart and leaned slightly toward her. And she could not tell whether his dark eyes were now intense with anger or... laughter. Certainly there was no smile on his face.
“Didyou?” she asked him.
He moved back to stand straight. “None of those things,” he said.
She nodded and was aware of voices and laughter coming from the adjoining room. They seemed very alone together here in contrast.
“But do you believe me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. She somehow could not see him as a thief. She did not like him. At least... No, she did not like him. He had donesomethingterrible, though it was long ago and was really no concern of hers. But whatever it was, it had turned him into a hard man who found it difficult to smile or to relate to others with any degree of amiability. He would be a difficult man with whom to live. And that wastrue, despite the frisson of attraction and sexual awareness she felt suddenly, standing here looking at him. She had never looked at any other man and wondered what it would be like to go to bed with him. She had thought of kisses and romance, but not ofthatexcept in vague terms associated with wedding nights. It was a bit horrifying that she was thinking of precisely that now.
“It is not my businesswhatyou did or how you spent those years or what you lived on,” she said.
“It would be your business,” he said, “if you had agreed to be my countess.”
“Yes,” she said. “But I did not.” Those large, powerful-looking hands. That broad-shouldered, broad-chested body. Those powerful thighs. That harsh-featured, almost craggy face and those intense dark eyes. No, it would be impossible. Too intense. Too far beyond her control. “The state apartments are all on the lower level of the north wing, are they not? What is on the floor above?”
