Her expression was laden with mistrust. “I do, but not with you in it.”
“Let’s view the sleeping arrangements before we argue.” Flynn pulled a diamond ring from his pinkie finger. “Put this on, Lady Montsimon.”
She did so without comment, making him hope he might be in with a chance.
“But we arenotsleeping together,” she repeated.
“How do we explain that to them?” He grunted. “You are entirely safe with me, I assure you. A man needs some sleep before seducing a woman.” This was not essentially true. “To do it well, in any case. I prefer to be thorough.”
“Many couples don’t sleep together,” she said in an edgy voice.
“You speak of theton. Farmers and their wives sleep in the same bed.”
“How do you know? You’re guessing.”
“It’s a matter of available bedchambers. Did you sleep with your husband?”
She gave a disgusted snort. “What a question!”
“I find it reasonable. After all, you are asserting that couples don’t sleep together. And I wondered…”
“You wonder far too much,” she snapped.
“Very well, I apologize. Here’s the farmhouse. We shall take the horse to the stables. The gentleman has a sick horse.”
“So my guess was right?”
“Yes. Although I don’t see why you need to mention it.”
“Because you are so grudging in your praise.”
Flynn held aside a bush and led the horse through. He waited, holding the branch for her.
“It’s a neat farm.” Althea ducked under his arm. “Montsimon,” she said in a breathless voice, “do you think you could help me keep my property?”
He wasn’t about to encourage her to hang onto something that might get her killed. “Why is that little cottage so important to you? Does it hold happy memories of your marriage?”
“No it doesn’t.”
Flynn turned to search her face.
“You are far too inquisitive about my marriage, my lord.”
He found he was. “But why keep the house when it will cause you so much trouble?”
She raised her chin. “Owltree Cottage is mine. That’s all there is to it. I don’t see why it needs explaining.”
They reached the stables, and Flynn led the horse inside. The farmer rose from beside his horse.
“Fletcher, your ladyship.” He gave an embarrassed smile and half-bowed. “Mrs. Fletcher is in quite a flutter at the thought of meeting you.”
“So good of you to take us in at this ungodly hour.” Althea walked across the straw to where the horse lay shuddering. “What is wrong with your mare, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Darned if I know, your ladyship.” He looked horror-struck. “Please excuse my language! I’ve been up all night. But I believe the horse is rallying.”
“Does she have a fever?”
“No.”
