A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“Then you have given the matter serious thought?”

He was standing so close she almost closed her eyes and leant back against his broad chest. “I have.”

“Good.”

He untied the bow and slipped the cloak off her shoulders. When he stepped away, the gnawing ache inside returned. The gentleman always sent her nerves scattering and yet, truth be told, she welcomed his attention.

“Then let us sit and discuss your decision over supper.” Mr Lockhart hung her cloak on the coat stand near the door and then played the role of footman by pulling out her chair.

“Do you intend to serve me, too?” she said to lighten the mood, for the atmosphere thrummed with intensity.

“If that is what you want.” He paused. “I need you, Miss Darling, and will do whatever it takes to win your favour.”

“You will do anything?” Claudia chuckled as she took a seat.

Mr Lockhart shook out her napkin and draped it across her lap. “Anything to ease your fears, anything to ensure your comfort and mental wellbeing.”

A foolish woman might be flattered, might relish the prospect of having Mr Lockhart at her beck and call. But this was about deception, Claudia reminded herself, and this man knew how to make a woman feel desirable.

“Then sit down, sir, for I cannot concentrate when you loiter.”

When Mr Lockhart dropped into the seat opposite, Claudia wondered if she had been hasty in her instruction. The man had a devilish glint in his eyes that sent her heart fluttering like a host of bewildered butterflies.

Heaven help her.

How could she sleep in his bed when she couldn’t even look him in the eye?

Claudia remained silent in a desperate attempt to gather her wits while Mr Lockhart proved a master with a ladle and filled both their plates without spilling a drop.

“So,” he began after tasting a mouthful of stew and giving a nod of approval, “am I to wait until the end of the evening to hear your answer?”

Claudia placed her cutlery down and dabbed her lips with her napkin.

Look at him, damn it, else he’ll think you weak.

She raised her chin. “I have a few stipulations if I am to accept your proposal.”

“Only a few?” He smiled. “I could think of ten questions a gently bred virgin might ask.”

“Heavens, you’re keen to make assumptions, sir.”

Mr Lockhart arched a brow. “Please. It is a compliment to your character, not a criticism.”

Still, he should not presume to know her. “Perhaps I eloped with a lover, and my father caught up with us before we reached Gretna Green. Perhaps, as mistress of the manor, I have a penchant for stable boys.”

Amusement replaced his initial look of surprise. “Then for once, I wish I was born to the lower ranks and destined to care for horses. There is nothing like a rampant roll in the hay.”

Heat rose to her cheeks.

Oh, she hated how he had the means to unsettle her so easily.

“As long as one has a thick enough blanket,” she replied with affected confidence.

“Indeed.” He raised his glass in salute. “To frolicking in forbidden places.”

Being forced to raise her glass, too, it appeared she agreed. They both sipped their wine, their gazes remaining locked for all of a few seconds.

“Would you care to hear them?” he said as he lowered his glass and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.