“But you did. And you stayed.”
“I did,” he agreed. He lifted a hand to rub a finger along the side of his nose. “I certainly did not want to see you last week. I had wronged you horribly and I hated having to come to make my apology. I did not much want to see you two days ago, but since I was the one to suggest that you call on Beatrice, it would have seemed mean to sneak away on my horse and have you find no one home at all.”
“You saw me coming, then?” she asked him. “You were returning from your ride?”
“I was just setting out, actually,” he said. “And, yes, I saw you. And I enjoyed our conversation in the garden. I suppose I have been starved for female company, entirely by my own fault, and you seemed a safe companion.”
“Safe?”
“You are a widow and only partway through your mourning period.” He grimaced. “I apologize. I am making a mess of this. I am not interested in any flirtation. I am not in search of a wife. I—”
“And if you were,” she said, “you would be searching in the wrong place. I amnotin the market for a husband.”
“No,” he said. “Of course not. I enjoyed your companionship a few days ago, Mrs. McKay. It is not often one can relax with a member of the opposite sex who is not a relative.”
“And so I am safe because I am a recent widow,” she said. “But what if I werenotstill in mourning?”
He stared at her for a few moments.
“Then you would not seem safe at all,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I would be tempted to…engage your interest,” he said.
“My affections, do you mean?”
“Affection is not always necessary.”
She settled her back against the cushions behind her. “You mean you would be tempted to seduce me?”
“Absolutely not.” He frowned. “Seduction is onesided. It suggests a certain degree of coercion or at least of deception.”
Samantha could actually feel her heart thumping in her chest. She could hear it pulsing in her ears. “Sir Benedict,” she said, “how has our conversation come to take this turn?”
He smiled at her suddenly, and there was a strange fluttering low in her abdomen, for it was a smile of considerable charm. It was almost boyish—except that it was not really boyish at all.
Oh, this was absolutely not safe! How dared he? She really ought not to have let him stay.
“I believe it must have a great deal to do with the absence of Lady Matilda,” he said. “I doubt we would have spoken of much other than the weather and the state of one another’s health if she had been here.”
“No, indeed,” she agreed fervently. “But we need not worry anyway, need we? I am a recent widow and so I am safe company.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“What a very unmannerly question,” she said. “A woman never tells, sir. Younger than you, though. I believe my first impression of you was an accurate one after all. All that language and bad temper! You are no gentleman.”
But she spoiled the effect of her words by laughing. He smiled back at her.
“I am going to ring for the tea tray,” she said, getting to her feet. “Would you like something other than tea?”
“Sherry, if there is any.”
She pulled the bell rope. Tramp raised his chin for a moment, sensed that her rising did not offer any treat for himself, and lowered it again onto Sir Benedict’s right boot. Silly dog. Did he not realize that the man did not like him?
She gave the order to Rose but did not immediately sit down again. She felt uncomfortable and moved to the window, where she stood looking out. The rain had not eased.
He would be tempted to engage her interest if she were not a recent widow, he had openly admitted. She ought to have crossed the distance between them there and then and slapped his face. Or she ought to have demanded that he leave.
