“I accept that you didn’t mention your offer, but Franni, as I said-you heard what Charles said-she’s childish. She exaggerates wildly.” Her hands gestured; her eyes willed him to understand. “What did you speak with her about?”
He frowned. “Why is it important?”
She pressed her lips together, then gave in. “Franni mentioned she had a gentleman caller, one who called twice. She interpreted his visits as meaning he would offer for her. She told me this days ago. I couldn’t get her to reveal anything more-she’s often secretive. And often what she’s sure happened is pure fantasy.”
His frowned deepened; she hurried on, “I don’t even know if the man she was thinking of was you, but it might have been, and she might have…”
“Imagined the rest.” Gyles thought back. “I introduced myself as Gyles Rawlings, a distant-” He broke off. Francesca’s eyes had widened. “What?”
“I-we-Ester, Charles, and I-always spoke of you as Chillingworth. When we arrived here, your mother and the others did the same, at least in Franni’s hearing. She might not have realized-”
“Who I was before the ceremony? That might explain her reaction. Sheer surprise makes more sense than her having read anything into our meetings.”
“Those meetings?”
“The first time I walked with her all we spoke of was the dogs. I asked if they were hers. She said they just lived there. I later made a comment about their spots, with which she agreed. Then I left her. The next day, she was absorbed with trees. She was asking which was which.” He shook his head. “I think I answered twice. Other than that, and saying good-bye, I can’t recall saying anything more.”
He studied Francesca’s face. “If your cousin imagined anything, it was unfounded. Neither you nor I can do anything about that. You said yourself you don’t know if it was me she was referring to or some other. Or no one. You don’t know if that’s why she reacted in the chapel as she did. It might, as Charles suggested, simply be overexcitement.”
Francesca held his gaze. He was right-there was nothing either of them could do, at least not at present. He reached for her-she whisked away.
“Your mistake over Franni is only the first bone we have between us, my lord.” She caught his eye as she paced around him. “I wish to understand why, imagining you were offering for Franni, you were so…”-she gestured-“intent on me.” She was sure he’d understand her allusion; the hardening of his already hard face confirmed he did. Swinging to face him, she spread her arms wide. ?
??If you thought she was me, who did you think I was?”
His eyes narrowed to slate shards. His gaze flashed over her-she felt it like a touch, a brush of long fingers over her bare skin. Beneath her gown, her skin flickered. She suppressed a shiver and kept her gaze on his eyes.
“I thought”-the words were bitten off-“that you were a gypsy. Too consciously well endowed and far too bold to be a young lady.” He took a prowling step toward her. “I thought you a bold and eager companion.”
She tilted her head defiantly. “I know well what you were thinking, my lord.” She made no effort to retreat as he prowled closer.
“I know you do. You were thinking along the same lines.” He halted before her. Lifting one hand, he traced a finger along her jaw, then slid it beneath and tipped her face to his. His eyes held hers. “Can you deny it?”
Francesca let her lips curve. “No. But then I hadn’t come directly from offering for another.”
Gyles realized his misstep, but she didn’t let him retreat.
“How dare you!” Eyes blazing, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “How dare you make an offer for me, and then, within minutes, think, consider, and even start planning on taking another woman as your mistress?”
“That other woman was you!”
“You didn’t know that!” She jabbed him again. He took a step back and she was on him like a whirlwind. “You came after me, looking for me in the orchard-you kissed me-you almost seduced me!”
She was so much shorter and slighter than he, yet her fury burned like a flame. Hands, arms, her whole body was afire; she came at him, and he backed, step by step, before the sheer rage in her eyes.
“You left the woman you thought was your intended, and you deliberately sought me out to-”
“You were very ready to be seduced-”
“Of course I was! I knew who you were-you’d offered for me! I thought you wanted me-me, your intended bride!”
“I did want you-”
She cut him off with a torrent of Italian. He spoke the language fluently, but at the rate she spoke, he could make out less than one word in ten. Words like “arrogant,” and something he thought approximated “swine,” and one or two others gave him an idea of her tack, but not enough of the context for him to defend himself.
“Slow down-I can’t understand you.”
Her eyes flamed. “You can’t understand me? You were set on marrying a lady you’d deliberately barely exchanged two words with! It’s I who cannot understand you!”