He gestured to a chair next to hers. “May I?”
“No. This is a private luncheon. I’m in the middle of consulting with the flora about my dramatic spinsterhood.”
He glanced at the fern. “Does it have strong opinions?”
“It thinks I should ravish you and get it over with.”
He paused.
She flushed.
“I was joking.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“How disappointing.”
“Sebastian.”
He grinned and pulled out the chair anyway, settling in. “I thought you might appreciate the company.”
“I was appreciating solitude.”
He poured himself a cup of her tea.
“Highly sacred, very necessary solitude.”
He added sugar.
“Which is now entirely ruined by your big, beautiful head.”
Sebastian took a sip and sighed, utterly at peace. “Yes,but you’re smiling again.”
“I always smile.”
“You didn’t smile when I entered. You looked rather… head in the table.”
Her face heated.
He reached across the table and nudged her untouched sandwich. “This yours?”
“I don’t see anyone else here.”
“May I?”
He wanted to eat her half-eaten sandwich? “I—”
He took a bite.
Maddie’s breath hitched. How could such a thing be so sensual? “You are the worst sort of guest.”
His grin widened. “I am the best.”
They sat in silence for a moment—her pulse rioting, his foot brushing hers beneath the table. The light from the windows caught the edge of his cheekbone. She looked away too quickly.
Sebastian leaned in, voice gentling. “What’s bothering you? Perhaps I can help?”
