“That was you, by the way,” he added unnecessarily.
As if she needed clarification. “I’m hardly the biddable sort,” she said tartly. “I’m nothing like the fashionable women of theton. I am freckled—”
“Sun-kissed,” he amended.
“With sun-bleached hair—”
“It’s golden. Honey and copper.”
“Oh.”
Hester stammered to a stop. Tremayne always managed to do this to her, to leave her bemused and tongue-tied. He flirted so effortlessly; it was as natural to him as breathing. He probably flirted with his donkey when there were no other females around. And yet he seemed to like—appreciate, even—all the qualities she herself disliked. He was a singularly unusual man.
Why hadn’t he married? He was certainly a catch. A tall, dark, handsome, titled Adonis who also happened to be funny, kind, and incredibly alluring. Any woman would be desperate to have him.
Hester glanced at his profile. It was like gazing at one of the statues of the great pharaohs, all straight lines and attractive masculine angles. She wondered what he’d look like in just a pleated loin-cloth, bare-chested, and a hot flush warmed her skin.
He could be as autocratic as a pharaoh, too, she reminded herself sternly. He just loved bossing people around, having everyone jump to do his bidding.
“You won’t have any problem finding a husband when we’re back in England,” he said abruptly. “With your fortune, any number of men will be willing to overlook your unfashionably tanned skin and your even more unfashionable intelligence.”
“Who says Iwanta husband?” Hester said crossly. “What use are they?”
His smile was entirely too wicked. “Oh, I daresay they have their occasional uses.”
She refused to rise to the bait. He was, presumably, referring to a husband providing amorous services, but she was well aware one didn’t need to be married forthat. The Bey’s concubines had been most instructive on the matter.
“Actually, come to think of it, you don’t need a husband,” he said. “You need a keeper. Like the wild animals at the zoo. Someone to steer you away from—”
“Stop!” Hester croaked. “Hold right where you are, Tremayne.”
Thankfully, he did as he was told. He froze, just as she had done, and swiveled his gaze downward to see what commanded her attention.
A cobra, a dark, deserty brown, swayed back and forth on a sandstone block within striking distance of his foot. Its hood was extended. A warning hiss issued from its fanged mouth.
“Don’t move,” Hester whispered urgently.
“Can it bite me through my boot?” Harry whispered back.
“Do you really want to find out?”
With almost imperceptible slowness, she stretched her hand toward a loose piece of masonry about the size of her fist. The movement caught the snake’s attention. It turned its body away from Tremayne, just as she’d intended, and fixed its malevolent glare on her. Quick as a flash, she grabbed the rock and hurled it at the snake.
The serpent appeared to jump into the air as the fragment hit its body. It made a lightning-fast turn and disappeared into the gap between two blocks.
Hester let out a relieved breath then shot a slack-jawed Tremayne a cocky look.
“Good shot,” he breathed with genuine admiration.
She decided there was no need to reveal how surprisedshewas at her uncharacteristic accuracy. It was as if she’d been bestowed with supernatural powers.
She raised her brows. “You were saying something about me needing a keeper? As you can see, I don’t needanyman’s protection.”
“I take it all back,” he said with a chuckle. “You are a fully independent, snake-battering virago. Come on, let’s go and have a cup of tea.”
“We ran out of tea about six months ago,” Hester said, hurrying after him. “There’s only the mint tea the locals drink.”
That was one thing she’d missed about England: not the rainy climate, but black tea with cow’s milk and a decadent spoonful of sugar.