Sweet Charity. You don’t need to discuss me with your gaggle. I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“Doves don’t come in gaggles.”
“Yours do. And I think you’re a very dangerous woman, Lady Carstairs.” He reached for a sandwich himself, and she had to admire his tanned, graceful hand against the white of the bread.
“You do? How lovely!” She beamed at him. “What else can I do to terrify you?”
“You don’t really expect me to tell you, do you?” He glanced at the ruins. “I’ve already taken a quick look around the house. There’s no sign that anyone’s been there, and I don’t think the footing is safe. I expect I’ve seen enough. We should probably go back once we finish eating.”
“Don’t be absurd. We came this far for a purpose, one I intend to fulfill. You can’t fob me off with stories about uneven footing. You’ll find I’m hardier than most women of your acquaintance.”
“I expect you are…” he murmured. “Very well. But stay behind me and walk only where I walk.”
“Of course,” she said.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” she said again. “You may follow me.”
He ran a hand through his hair. It was dark, long and curling slightly, and she wondered what it felt like. It looked soft, like the fur on a wolf cub. “You really are driving me mad,” he said.
She smiled sweetly, getting to her feet. “Then I’ve succeeded in my goal. Why don’t you clean up the mess while I go look around the ruins? It’s only fair since I set the food out in the first place.”
He jumped to his feet, going after her. “The mess will wait.” He took her arm in what might have seemed a polite social gesture, if it weren’t for the hard, possessive grip of his hand. And they started toward the towering spikes of the ruined building.
He should have been in a foul mood, Benedick thought, trying to hide his smile. After all, she’d insulted him, lured him, challenged him and even threatened him. She’d wept all over him, and he despised tears. He considered them a feminine weakness used to manipulate men into doing what the female in question wanted.
He couldn’t really blame Melisande, though. She seemed to want nothing but her bad-tempered husband back again, astonishing as that notion seemed. She also seemed to believe she really wasn’t interested in the sins of the flesh, even if her body rose to his every time he touched her.
He had no problem with allowing her to keep her delusions. She was safer believing she had an intrinsically cold nature, even if she burned hot against him. As long as she was convinced that celibacy was, to paraphrase the Shakespeare his mother was so addicted to, “a non-consummation devoutly to be wish’d,” then he had a much greater chance of being able to keep his hands off her. He had absolutely no idea why he found her so tempting, but the unfortunate truth was that he did. And he needed to get her back to London and to her gaggle of soiled doves so he wouldn’t be able to give in.
She’d already started off, without her bonnet, which she’d discarded at some point, and the sun had kissed her cheeks with a soft blush. He scrambled to his feet and followed after her. Damnable woman.
Whether she liked it or not he took her arm when he caught up with her, but to his surprise she didn’t yank away. It was rough going over the scattered rubble, and they picked their way carefully.
There wasn’t enough left of Kersley Hall to provide shelter for a family of mice. The fire had torn through the old place, devouring everything not made of stone, leaving only the outer walls and chimneys in place. She stopped in the cavernous front doorway, staring into the rubble beyond, and shook her head. “I don’t think anyone has been in here since the fire,” she said.
“I agree. Now can we…”
“What is that building?” She pointed to a neat cottage set off away from the house. The roof was partly burned, but most of it was in solid shape, and curtains were drawn across the deep-set windows.
“I have no idea. These outlying cottages can be used for any number of things. It might house a gatekeeper, or the head gardener, possibly the gamekeeper. It’s possible it might serve as a dairy or a laundry, though I would think there would be more chimneys. Perhaps it was simply a home