“The stew is to your liking?” He broke the silence that had weighed heavily since they’d arrived at the inn.
“It’s fine.” She kept her answer polite but brief. “And yours?”
“Absolutely marvelous.” She felt his stare on her as she took a dainty bite.
Under any other circumstances, she would have enjoyed sharing such a romantic meal in the presence of this dashing gentleman.
But inside, she was mortified with herself.
Not because of what she’d allowed, but because the very wickedness of it was not distasteful. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
And exciting.
No! Nia ignored the taunting voice in the back of her mind.
In the same moment that he’d brought her body to life, he’d chastised her. She should hate him. But she couldn’t.
What he’d done, the way he’d touched her, was nothing like her mother had said. She was going to have to stop using her mother’s description for reference.
Furthermore, as he’d pointed out, he was not like any man she’d ever known. He’d made quite certain she wouldn’t forget that.
With him, she felt things she’d never imagined. She’d allowed the unthinkable.
He’d touched her in places that ought to be… untouchable.
“Try one of these rolls.” A basket appeared in front of her. He was acting as though nothing had happened—as though this was any other meal.
“Thank you.” Nia picked out a piece of the warm, soft bread, and Jasper rose, reached across, and poured her some wine. “Thank you,” she said again.
Jasper leaned back, took a sip of his own, and then sighed. “I suppose you think I ought to apologize.”
Was that what she wanted? With food in her mouth, she didn’t answer.
“If I do, will you begin speaking to me again? I know most gentlemen prefer women to keep quiet, but I’ve grown fond of your company. You’re surprisingly entertaining when you aren’t pouting.”
This had Nia jerking her chin up. “I’m not pouting.”
“Then what would you call this silent treatment you’ve been giving?”
Nia opened her mouth to speak. And then closed it. And then, “I’m not pouting. I’m thinking. The two are distinctly different from one another.”
“Then tell me what you are thinking.”
“I cannot.” She stabbed a slice of carrot with her fork, but rather than stick on the end, it broke into four smaller pieces.
“You are angry with me,” Jasper persisted.
“Can you not just let it be?” She hated that her voice came out whiny. She’d never been the whiny sort. Two days in this gentleman’s company and she had lost the ability to be civil.
When he didn’t answer, she looked up and found him watching her. In his expression she saw irritation and frustration, but something else.
That couldn’t be hurt in his eyes, could it?
“I’m not angry with you,” she said softly. “But I am… confused.”
He nodded, holding her gaze. “That’s my fault. But I cannot take it back. It happened because it needed to happen. You’ve learned something new about yourself, and you’ve also learned something about me.”
“I made you angry,” she said.
