It was not to be borne, it really wasn’t, for he was obviously waiting for her. Hips against the rail, arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed as well, he had an unimpeded view of her bedroom door, and since he was waiting where he was, there was no way she could have avoided him.
He was casually dressed, almost too casually, minus a cravat and with several buttons open on his embroidered cambric shirt, revealing a darkly tanned V of chest, a few hairs hinting at a thicker patch just below. His coat was dark navy, the shoulders and upper arms filled out tightly. Long, muscular legs were sheathed in soft buckskin, with shiny Hessians molded to his calves. Everything about him proclaimed him an avid outdoorsman, athletic, a bloody Corinthian, which was so contrary to the reputation that would have him a debauched creature of the night, devoted to sensual pleasures and late hours of dissipation. Well, whatever he was, he was dangerously appealing to her senses.
When it appeared that the lady wasn’t going to budge another step that would bring her nearer to him, Anthony said, “It’s as well you came out now, sweetheart. I was just beginning to fantasize about slipping into your room and finding you still abed—”
“Sir Anthony!”
“Was the door unlocked?” he teased, but at her fulsome glare, finally chuckled. “You needn’t bludgeon me with those pretty eyes, my dear. I don’t mean a word of it. In fact, you can come ahead without the slightest qualm. Today I fully intend to offer my best behavior, to observe every propriety, and to bury all those wicked instincts that might cause you alarm.”
“You promise?”
He grinned. “Must I?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. My promise, solemn and most sincere, is yours until you take pity on me and give it back.”
The sound of her husky laugh was like music to his ears. “You can have it back, Sir Anthony, when you’re too old to want it, and not a day sooner.”
She came forward then, stopping just in front of him, her parasol tucked under her arm, her bonnet swinging from the cord held in her hand. She was a vision, by God, with her full lips turned up in a generous smile, her firm little chin that had proved so stubborn, and those lovely gold-flecked eyes sparkling with humor now.
He had been wise to leave Silverley last night, he reflected now, wise indeed. If he had stayed, he would have been drawn to Roslynn again when she needed time to cool her temper. So he had taken himself off to the village to celebrate, for which there was ample cause. She might have slapped him, but by God, he had aroused her, and that was reason enough for his high spirits, and cause for wenching, since she had definitely aroused him as well.
Anthony could have laughed, remembering how his plans had gone awry. The problem was, by the time he had found a willing lass, a comely one too, in the little tavern where he ended up, he no longer needed one or wanted one, other than the one he had left behind at Silverley. So when James unexpectedly showed up at the same tavern not long behind him, he very happily turned the little doxy over to his brother and settled for getting pleasantly drunk while he plotted his next move.
He had decided, quite shrewdly if her present smile was any indication, to change his approach for the time being. And after a lengthy talk with his favorite niece this morning, he had come upon the perfect contrivance. He would offer the lady what she couldn’t refuse—help to achieve her goals. Of course, if the advice he gave hindered more than helped, he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Her goals simply weren’t his.
She was waiting, patiently, to hear why he had put himself in her path. Ah, the power of a few words. She was at ease, her guard down, putting full trust in his promise. She had no way of knowing his passions far outweighed his whimsical honor, at least in dealing with those of the female gender.
He came away from the rail, his manner smooth, his voice impersonal. “It would be to your advantage, Lady Roslynn, to come along with me where we might talk privately.”
Wariness returned. “I fail to see—”
His smile disarmed her. “My dear, I said talk, nothing more. If you can’t bring yourself to trust me, how am I going to help you?”
Nonplussed. “Help me?”
“Of course,” he replied. “That is what I had in mind. Now come along.”
It was sheer curiosity that prompted Roslynn to hold her tongue and let him lead her downstairs and into the library. She simply couldn’t fathom what he thought he was going to help her with. The only difficulties she was having at the moment were her attraction to him and her inability to scratch below the facade that her gentlemen presented to the public. Her gentlemen? No, he couldn’t know about them, could he?
Whether he did or didn’t, Roslynn found herself aghast to be blushing at the mere possibility. Fortunately, Anthony didn’t notice, leading her directly to a sofa, then walking to the end of the long room and stopping before a liquor cart.
“Brandy?” he asked over his shoulder.
“At this hour?”
Her incredulous tone made him smile to himself. “No, of course not. How silly of me.”
But he definitely needed one, for the thought flashed through his mind that he had her alone at last and only need lock the doors. But that wasn’t what he had brought her here for, and he would have to keepthatthought uppermost in his mind.
He tossed down the brandy and strolled back to stand before the sofa on which she sat so decorously, legs pressed together, parasol and bonnet in her lap. She was huddled in one corner, leaving him a good five feet of space to occupy himself. He would be a bore to sit next to her when it was perfectly clear she didn’t want him to. He did anyway, though he conceded enough to allow a six-inch space to keep her from panicking.
She panicked just the same. “Sir Anthony—”
“D’you think you could start calling me Anthony, or better yet, Tony? After all, if I’m to be your confidant—”
“Mywhat?”
