He admired the intentness of her face as she concentrated on her omelet. Strands of dark chestnut hair had escaped to curl around her neck, and she looked utterly delectable. Was this domestic comfort what life was for most people? If so, perhaps being a lord was more a liability than an asset.
But common men didn’t have a Diana Lindsay tending their hearths. They couldn’t have afforded her services.
Remembering the nature of their relationship took some of the pleasure out of the scene. It was in her interest to keep him happy, and obviously she was richly schooled in satisfying the many forms of male appetite.
Yet it was impossible to maintain the cynical thought as she served him the steaming omelet, the fragrance of chives scenting the room. Gervase said, “Aren’t you going to have some? This is enormous.”
She hesitated. “It does smell good. If you’re sure there will be enough for you?”
“I think that half of this will ward off starvation a little longer,” he said gravely.
She chuckled and got another plate, taking a quarter of the omelet for herself, then sat on the opposite side of the table. Having the smaller portion, Diana finished first and thoughtfully sipped her ale as she admired her visitor, glad to see the lines of fatigue disappearing from his face. “What do you do at Whitehall?”
He shrugged and carved off a thick slice of bread. “Mostly I move papers from one pile to another.”
“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“It isn’t.”
Driven by a random imp of curiosity, Diana asked, “Are you really the chief spymaster of the British government?”
Had she not been watching so closely, she would have missed the slight hesitation as his fork paused in midair before he finished the omelet. “Who told you that?”
“Madeline. When she asked about you, that is one of the things she heard. Apparently it is commonly said.”
Gervase looked at her, his gray eyes cool. “A great many things are said commonly, most of which are not true. Why would you be interested in such matters?”
She shrugged. “I’m not interested in them for themselves, but I’m interested in you.”
He eyed her rather warily over his ale. “All I do is move papers around. People may interpret that any way they choose. What else did Madeline hear about me?”
Narrowing her eyes as she tried to remember, Diana said, “That you are very wealthy. That you keep much to yourself, though you could enter any level of society you chose. That you have a mad wife in Scotland.” She listed the items as if they were of equal importance.
Gervase didn’t reply directly, merely raising his eyebrows ironically. “With such an intelligence network, she accusesmeof being a spymaster?”
Diana shook her head. “She accuses you of nothing. Like any good merchant, we were concerned with gathering the facts needed to make a decision.”
“How very rational of you.”
She smiled then. “Not really. No matter how logical the process, in the end I make all of my decisions for emotional reasons. I’m not a rational person, you know.”
“Good,” he said, his voice very soft as he stood and rounded the table behind Diana, pulling her into his arms. “By a strange coincidence, I don’t feel very rational myself just now.”
She gasped as he kissed her neck, then made one last hostess remark. “Do you wish to end your meal with a sweet, my lord?”
“Exactly.”
She lifted her face for a kiss, thinking that it would be very easy to get used to this. The thought was a flippant one, and she was unprepared for the surge of passion she felt when his lips met hers. Raising her arms, she clung to him, feeling Gervase’s own shocked and hungry response.
Dimly she sensed that he was equally startled at being seized by desires as unruly as a river torrent, but neither of them had the will or the desire to pull back. Doubt and caution would come later.
* * *
It was very late when Gervase left. Diana had fallen asleep, and after tucking the down quilt under her chin, he simply stood, feasting his eyes for long minutes before he could bring himself to leave. He had never met a beautiful woman who was devoid of vanity and the arrogance that beauty brings, yet Diana, who was the most beautiful of all, seemed without those flaws. She was generous in her lovemaking, her responsiveness was a man’s deepest dream, and the mere sight of her could still rouse a flicker of desire in his exhausted and sated body.
Reality returned downstairs, where Madeline Gainford placidly awaited him. She had been sewing, but she put her workbasket aside to intercept him in the hall. Gervase stiffened warily as the shadowed figure came from the salon, and he relaxed only slightly after identifying her. What on earth could the woman possibly want at four in the morning?
If she was aware of his suspicion, she ignored it. “If you’ve a moment, my lord, I would like a few words with you.”
