“Your honesty does you credit,” she said softly. “And lends some credence to your claim of honor. And since you are correct that my other options here are…suspect, I-I will dine with you. With my thanks for the invitation.”
He held out an arm and she stared at it. A very muscled arm, she could tell that even beneath his jacket. With just a small hesitation, she reached out and closed her fingers around his muscles, shivering as they rippled slightly beneath her hand. He guided her back to his table and helped her into her seat.
She took a deep breath before she settled in. There was nothing to fear. It was just supper.
And yet her heart stuttered just the same.
Gray internally cursed himself with all the worst vocabulary in his vast library of profanities. What had happened to not pursuing the delectable Mrs. Wilde? That had been the plan and yet instead he’d leapt to his feet and asked her to join him in his supper. A rational explanation would have been a gentlemanly urge to protect her from any unwanted advances she might find at another table. But that excuse was not correct. His thoughts were nothing gentlemanly as he stared across the table at her. In truth, he had been driven by far more wicked impulses.
Ones best left ignored, even if it took a lion’s strength to do so.
He smiled at her and she returned the expression with some awkwardness. Of course it would be awkward. Since they’d taken their seats ten minutes before, they had been in a silence that felt like it cut the air.
Luckily they were spared any further discomfort when the innkeeper arrived with two heaping plates of food. He practically threw them down before darting off to pour more wine for those at an adjacent table.
Gray looked at the food before them. The plate consisted of a roast Cornish game hen with root vegetables set around it. He leaned in and took a long sniff before he let his gaze return to Mrs. Wilde’s face.
“It smells safe enough.”
She laughed. “It smells divine. Come, I will try it first and we’ll see if we have something to fear.”
He watched as she carefully cut a slice of meat and lifted it to her ruby red lips. She licked them slightly before she took her bite, and his groin throbbed. Goddamn it, why did he have such strong sexual urges toward this blasted woman? Was it just the length of time between conquests? Was it the odd circumstances? Was it only because she was uncommonly beautiful?
“Oh my,” she murmured as she swallowed. “That isgood.”
He lifted his eyebrows at her sentiment, briefly distracted from his lusty thoughts by disbelief at her claim. “Could it be?”
She motioned at him with her fork and he took a bite of his own. To his surprise, the meat burst with flavor and wasn’t the slightest bit dry or undercooked. The vegetables were tender and the light sauce that covered the dish was fresh and delicious.
“Well, thatisunexpected,” he admitted as he swallowed. “After trying the ale, I thought I was in for the worst meal of my life.”
She nodded. “I have not tried the ale, but the quality of the establishment is obviously questionable. Still, this must be one of the best meals I’ve ever had the pleasure to consume.” She cut another slice of meat and gave him a long look before she ate it. “You know, I just realized we never introduced ourselves.”
He watched her eat a moment before he shrugged. “That is becauseyouwere busy trying to talk yourself out of sitting with me. AndIalready know your name, Mrs. Wilde.”
She blinked and her cheeks filled with pink heat as she broke their gaze. Once again, she wetted her lips and he all but growled with the action. Damn his body. He would have to use all his tricks to stifle this ridiculous desire.
And he feared no matter what he thought of, nothing would help.
“Howdidyou know my name?” she asked, her voice so soft it barely carried even at such close proximity.
“I told you, I noticed you when you entered. I asked.” He left the answer short in the hopes it wouldn’t inspire follow-up. Given his lack of ability to control himself tonight, he might just say something he regretted if given the chance.
“And what isyourname?” she asked, daring to look at his face once more.
“Gray,” he said simply.
“Mr. Gray,” she said. “A pleasure.”
He stiffened slightly. She was not correct in her address. His first name was Gray, not his last. But perhaps it was better not to say anything after all. This was beginning to feel like a strange night stolen out of time. Anonymity might be best.
“How did you come to be stranded on this night?” she asked. “Was your carriage stuck in the drifting?”
He shook his head. “I was riding a horse, not in a vehicle. And though I could have perhaps made it farther, it didn’t seem prudent for the animal’s health to try to do so.”
Her expression softened slightly at that admission. So she was an animal lover.
“The innkeeper tells me you are a widow,” he said, pressing into a more intimate topic.
