“Port, Miss Leavold?”
“Yes, please.”
He poured two small glasses and handed mine to me, our fingers touching briefly as he did. A small shudder of delight raced through me. He noticed.
He walked over to the fire, and I arranged myself on a nearby sofa, wondering what safe subject I could broach; I found myself both terrified that he would talk about this morning and terrified that he wouldn’t.
“I am so sorry that I didn’t get to see Violet again. Before she died.” The moment the words left me, I noticed that Mr. Markham’s mouth had parted, as if he were about to speak himself. But at my statement, his lips pressed together again and he gave a nod.
“Yes. Yes, I imagine you are.”
I was reminded of the cook’s suspicious rumblings and I wanted to ask about the screaming and the shattered glass. About the investigation into her death. But even I knew better—even I could see how rude such a line of questioning would be.
His face was turned to the fire. “You are the first good thing to happen in this house since she died. Or since we married.”
I waited for him to continue.
He didn’t.
Instead, he went over the library door and turned the lock, coming back to the sofa. He sat, his leg pressed against mine, and I imagined I could feel how muscular it was, even through the layers and layers of clothing that separated us.
His posture was casual as he drank his port, and I followed his example, setting my glass down on a nearby table when I’d finished. I felt warmer, happier somehow. More relaxed. More daring. Perhaps I could talk to him about what happened today. I turned toward him.
“Mr. Markham, about today…”
“Yes?” His tone betrayed nothing but polite interest. I could have been asking him about the weather or the latest levy on carriage wheels.
I continued, fortified by the wine. “I
don’t want you to take an unfavorable impression of me from it.”
He laughed. “I intrude upon you in a private moment, take advantage of you, and you don’t want me to think badly of you?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought of it in those terms,” I said, frowning.
His laughter faded away, replaced by a serious expression. “I’ve been thinking of it all day.” His fingers trailed against my hand and up my sleeve, until they came to rest against the bodice of my dress. “What are you?” he asked. “Some kind of spirit sent to tempt me?”
“I could ask you the same question.” And I couldn’t help myself. I had to touch him. I ran my fingers along the stubble on his jaw, marveling at the roughness of it, how scratchy it was and yet how soft the skin underneath. My hand dropped to his thigh, where I felt how right I had been—his legs were muscular and firm.
He jumped off the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?” he demanded.
My heart jumped. He was just as affected by me as I was by him, and that realization thrilled me beyond measure. “Sir—”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“I am sorry for causing you distress—”
“Distress,” he stated flatly. “Yes, you are causing me immense distress.” He came to a stop in front of me. “Have you ever even kissed a man?”
I felt a little insulted. Despite what had happened here at Markham Hall, despite my admittedly untraditional upbringing, I had never done anything of the sort. I may have been wild, but I wasn’t loose. “Of course not,” I said. I’d meant to sound indignant that he’d even asked, but my voice betrayed something else: longing.
“You see? You are completely virginal, though Lord knows those lips and eyes don’t look the part.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “You have all of these firsts—kisses and caresses and more—left in front of you. You are completely fresh to the world of grown men and women.”
He took hold of my hands and helped me stand to my feet. “I think it’s best if we keep our distance from one another,” he said. My whole body wilted in disappointment. I wanted nothing less.
“Why?”
He pressed his forehead against mine just as he had this morning. “Do you remember me saying that I had become a creature of needs after Violet’s death? I wasn’t exaggerating and I wasn’t joking. I’m accustomed to getting what I want. And I want you.”
