“What are you gawking at?” he demanded.
She continued to stare, completely unable to stop herself. “I am astonished by the size of your vastus lateralis, vastus intermedius, and vastus medialis. Why, even your sartorius is clearly defined and equally amazing.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he saw that she’d directed her total attention to the area below his belt.
He felt a profound urge to drop his hands to his groin.
But he didn’t. He still held her bird and wasn’t about to take the risk of being turned into a eunuch by a pecking parrot. “Here, take your stupid bird.”
His command snapped Theodosia out of her deep state of contemplation. Quickly, she slid John the Baptist out of the man’s hands. “Your irritation toward my parrot is totally unjustified. He can in no way be held accountable for the fall you took. Apparently, you don’t ride well. Riding requires superb equilibrium, something you obviously do not possess. Moreover, I refuse to believe you are injured. Your little tumble was cushioned by that mass of—”
“My littletumblenever would have happened if that feathered maniac hadn’t scared the hell out of my—”
“Feathered maniac?” Theodosia clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Sir, that is a very poor choice of words. You may not refer to a bird as a maniac.”
He gaped at her. “I may not?”
“No. The wordmaniacis used for humans only. And I will have you know that my bird is an African gray, a species of parrot that is very much admired throughout the civilized world.”
“Oh, of all the—I don’t care if that feathered maniac’s aJapanese purple,my word choices are none of your blasted business! And you’ve got some damned nerve telling me I can’t ride, lady.” He swiped his hat from the stone-peppered road. “I can’t remember a single day of my life when I haven’t mounted a horse!”
“My goodness, sir, you are becoming crazed.”
“I’mcrazy? AllIwas doing was riding into town!You’rethe one who was running all over the place chasing a pampered parrot and correcting people’s word choices!”
Theodosia walked into the shade beneath a towering oak.
Through narrowed eyes the man watched her. Her gently rounded hips swayed, and her dark blue traveling suit hugged her tiny waist and rustled around what he guessed were long, slender legs.
He could see nothing of her breasts; her damned bird snuggled against her chest. And since he’d been too angry to notice her bosom before, he couldn’t remember if it was small, or the big and full kind he liked.
Liked?He didn’t like this woman at all. Even if she did have big full breasts, he wasn’t going to like her.
Still, he mused, he didn’t have to like her to appreciate her looks. Indeed, in his opinion big full breasts had a lot to do with the one and only thing women were good for.
“Your quick temper is interesting, sir,” Theodosia announced abruptly, her skirts brushing across thick patches of bluebonnets and orange-red Indian paintbrush. “Oh, I realize that falling into a hill of reeking fertilizer is far from a pleasant experience, but you became instantly livid. So much so that I wondered if some form of cicuration would be necessary.”
So intently was he watching her, he barely heard her. But after a moment of thought, he realized what she’d said. His eyes widened to such an extent, his eyelids ached. “Good God, doallnorthern women go around threatening men with castration?”
She cocked her head slightly. “Whatever are you talking about, sir? I said nothing at all about castration.”
“You said—”
“Cicuration.To cicurate is to calm. To tame. Your ferocity made me wonder if I would have to somehow coax you out of your frenzied state.”
He frowned, no more able to comprehend what she had said than he could understand why he was still here listening to her. “Lady, I get the feeling you must be some sort of genius, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t a lunatic, too.”
He stalked over to his horse.
“My brother-in-law, Upton, and I studied the emotion of anger at great length a few years ago,” Theodosia elaborated, watching him mount and settle his large frame into the saddle. “We became interested in psychology, and it was most fascinating. Our research taught us that many people who possess quick tempers underwent various and extended forms of strain and or grief during their childhoods. But of course, there are also people who possess violent characters because they were extremely spoiled as children. Which is it in your case, sir?”
Surprise, like an unseen fist, hit him hard.
Strain and grief.
How had this woman guessed?
He slid his hat on. Without another word to her, he urged his stallion into an easy canter toward town.
