Now…
He drew in a breath and looked out over the sea. He needed a wife desperately, but did he need Madeline?
Did he need her and what she did to him?
Hoofbeats reached him; he turned, looked. They hadn’t made any plans to meet again, yet some part of him wasn’t surprised to see her.
At least one part of him leapt at the sight of her.
He’d ridden down to the boathouse and left Crusader there, then walked up to pace the clifftop where the breeze was fresh. She halted beside him; he caught her chestnut’s bridle as she slid from the saddle.
“I was coming to find you. I wanted to speak with you.” She came around the chestnut’s head, tugging off her gloves.
Speak with him? Her features were tight, her expression serious. “About what?”
She glanced up at him, pure Valkyrie, shield up, fully armored. “About yesterday.” Looking down, she tugged her glove free.
“Yesterday.” A chill inched down his spine. “What about yesterday?”
“Well…” Lips tight, she brushed back a lock of hair the wind had blown across her face. “I came to acknowledge your victory, and to tell you that while I enjoyed the interlude, I believe it would be unwise—seriously unwise—for us to indulge again.”
He opened his mouth—
She silenced him with an upraised hand. “No—hear me out.” She paused as if recalling a rehearsed speech, then went on, “I realize that you…that your interest in seducing me stemmed from boredom, as we originally discussed. You clearly saw me as a challenge, in your words ‘a conquest.’ However, now you’ve succeeded, no matter how…exciting and instructive the result, given who we are, given we’re so prominent in the neighborhood, given my brothers and your sisters, let alone Sybil and Muriel, given all those things I believe we should call a halt.” Drawing in a deep breath, she met his gaze. “Neither you nor I should court the sort of scandal that would ensue should a liaison between us become common knowledge.”
Gervase stared at her, struck dumb, not by her words but by his reaction, by the storm of emotions her intention had unleashed; they clawed and raged, threatening to swamp his mind and spill from his throat.
When he said nothing, she frowned. “I take it you agree?”
No! He scowled. “We can’t talk here.” Catching her hand, he changed his hold on her horse’s bridle. “Come to the boathouse.”
She tried to hang back. “Why can’t we talk here? There’s no one about and we can see for miles.”
“And someone miles away can see us.” Thank Heaven. He tugged until she stepped forward, then towed her along.
With an irritated humph, Madeline acquiesced. Reluctantly. She’d imagined having this discussion in the castle library; after all that had transpired in the boathouse yesterday, it was the very last place she would have chosen in which to bring their liaison to an end. But…he’d thrown her off-balance. After yesterday, she’d thought he’d be crowing, at least obviously smug. Instead…he looked grim, unhappy, dissatisfied. Why?
This was not a good time for her curiosity to raise its head. It should have had enough to keep it occupied after the events—and the consequent revelations—of yesterday. But no. So she allowed him to lead her to the boathouse, tie Artur up next to his big gray, then usher her inside.
He shut the door. She turned and faced him. “Now—”
“Not here.” He gestured to the stairs. “Upstairs.”
But at that even her curiosity balked. She frowned. “There’s no reason we can’t talk here.”
“Don’t be daft. I can barely make out your face.”
She couldn’t see his clearly either, but…she lifted her chin. “This won’t take long.”
Through the dimness, he met her gaze. A moment ticked by during which he plainly weighed his response; unbidden, an image of him tossing her over his shoulder and carting her upstairs popped into her mind. She blinked, instinctively tensed.
He growled and swung away. “I won’t discuss anything while I can’t see your face.” He made for the stairs and went up them two at a time.
Slack-jawed, she stared after him. Then she set her lips. “Damn it!” Going to the stairs, she climbed them—gracefully. It would be childish to stamp.
But she was determined not to go beyond the post at the stairhead. Luckily he’d stopped just along from the newel post, leaning back against the railings above the stairs. His arms were crossed, as were his ankles; he regarded her through narrowed eyes as she halted beside him.
“Let me see if I have this right.” He pinned her with a cuttingly sharp gaze. “After yesterday, your first foray into lovemaking, you’ve decided you’ve had enough and don’t need to learn anything more—is that correct?”