Indiscreet by Mary Balogh Read Free Book Online

rather jerkily the chair at the other side of the fire.
    â€œThank you.” He crossed the room to it and seated himself as she did likewise on the rocker. The terrier had jumped down at her approach. She was graceful, he thought. Her back did not touch the chair, though there was nothing stiff about her posture. Then she jumped to her feet again.
    â€œMay I offer you a cup of tea?” she asked. “I am afraid I have nothing stronger.”
    â€œNothing, thank you,” he said. Now that he was here with her, he was enjoying the tension between them. And she was quite as aware of it as he. It was a greater tension than he had ever experienced with a woman before.
    He watched her school herself to deal with the situation as she sat back down. She rested her hands in her lap, the back of one on the palm of the other, apparently relaxed.
    â€œDid you enjoy your ride this afternoon, my lord?” she asked politely. “The countryside around here is pretty, is it not, even at this time of year.”
    â€œExceedingly pretty,” he said. “One part of it more than any other.”
    â€œOh?” Her mouth remained in the shape of the word. He imagined setting the tip of his tongue to the small opening.
    â€œIn the village,” he said. “At this end of it. We stopped to view it. Though I suppose it cannot strictly be called countryside.”
    He watched her become aware of his meaning. She was one of the few women whose blush was becoming, he noticed.
    She looked sharply down at her hands. “It must be pleasant for you to see your nephew and niece,” she said. “They do not often leave here. I suppose you have not seen a great deal of them.”
    â€œEnough to suffice,” he said. “I discovered to my cost this morning that children have a tendency to believe that uncles are to be climbed upon.”
    â€œAnd you do not like to be climbed upon?” she asked.
    It was just too wicked a question to have been artless, though her blush deepened in the short pause before he replied.
    â€œIt depends entirely, Mrs. Winters,” he said, “upon who is doing the climbing. I can imagine it being very pleasurable indeed.”
    She reached out one slippered foot to smooth over the back of the dog, which was stretched out before her. She lowered her eyes to watch what she did. Again it was an artful action. He felt his pulse quicken. But he was enjoying himself. He did not want to hasten matters, he realized, even if a late return to Bodley drew curious questions. He waited for her to renew the conversation.
    Her eyes came up at last, hesitated on his chin, and then met his. “I do not know why you are here, my lord,” she said. “It is not quite proper.”
    Ah. She was not as content as he to let the situation develop at its own pace. She wished to bring him to the point.
    â€œI believe you do know,” he said. “And I assure you that no one saw me come here. There will be no gossip.”
    â€œSomeone who passes the length of the village street rarely goes unseen,” she said.
    â€œI came by the postern door,” he said. “Perhaps you did not know that Claude and Daphne and I spent a great deal of time here with our grandparents when we were children.”
    â€œYes, of course,” she said. “Why are you here now? At my cottage, I mean?”
    â€œI am bored, Mrs. Winters,” he said. “It seems likely that I will be at Bodley for several weeks, and while I am very fond of my brother and sister, and came here in company with two of myclosest male friends, I lack for congenial female company. I am bored, and my guess is that you are too. You are a widow in a place where there cannot be much in the way of social activity except when Clarissa condescends to invite you to the house. And there must be even less in the way of male company.”
    Her hands were no longer relaxed. They were clasping each other. “I