Already two steps up, she halted and swung to face him, a whole host of questions in her eyes.
"I'll be back the day after tomorrow, probably late."
"But… what about Bletchley?"
"Don't worry about him." He trapped her blue gaze. "Gillies, Hills and Cross will keep an eye on him."
Flick blinked at him. "But what if something happens?"
"I doubt it will, but Gillies will know what to do."
Flick had far less confidence in Gillies than she had in his master. However… she nodded. "Very well." She held out her hand. "I'll wish you a safe journey, then."
Taking her hand, he lifted a brow. "And a speedy return?"
She raised her brows haughtily. "I dare say I'll see you when you get back."
He trapped her gaze. His fingers shifted about her hand-raising it, he turned it and pressed his lips fleetingly to her wrist.
Her pulse leapt; she caught her breath.
He smiled devilishly. "Count on it."
Releasing her hand, he swept her an elegant bow and strode back to his waiting horses.
Flick watched as he leapt up to the seat, then wheeled the bays with matchless authority and set them pacing down the drive. She watched until he disappeared from sight, swallowed up by the shadows beneath the trees.
A frown slowly forming in her eyes, she turned and climbed the steps. The door was unlatched; she went in, closing it behind her. Crossing the hall, she greeted Jacobs with an absentminded smile, then continued on through the house, out on to the terrace and so onto the lawn. The lawn she had so often in recent times strolled with Demon.
If anyone had told her even three weeks before that the thought of not seeing a gentleman for two whole days would dim her mood-would sap her anticipation for those same days-she would have laughed.
She wasn't laughing now.
Not that she was about to succumb to listless lassitude, she had far too much to do. Like deciding how she felt about desire.
She considered the point as she passed beneath the trees and on into the wisteria-shaded walk. Hands clasped behind her, she fell to slowly pacing up and down the gravel.
He wanted to marry her-he intended to marry her. He expected her to say yes-he clearly believed she would.
After this afternoon, and their frank conversation, she at least knew precisely where he stood. He wanted to marry her for all the socially acceptable reasons, and because he desired her.
Which left her facing one very large, formidable question. Would she accept him?
It wasn't a question she'd expected to face. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he, her idol-her ideal gentleman-would want to marry her. Would look at her, a pigtailed brat reborn, and feel desire. The only reason she could state that point, and view the prospect with quite amazing equanimity, was that, deep down, she was still struggling to believe it.
It still seemed like a dream.
But…
She knew he was in earnest.
Reaching the end of the walk, she squinted at the clock above the stable arch. There was still an hour before luncheon; all about her was silent, no one else was in sight. Turning, she fell to pacing again, trying to organize her thoughts into a sensible sequence.
The first point she had to consider was obvious. Did she love Demon?
Somewhat to her surprise, the answer was easy.
"I've been secretly in love with him for years," she muttered. The admission left her with a very odd feeling in her stomach.