But they were very broad shoulders, she noted when he bent to pick up her suitcase a third time and began to stride off with it. She wondered if they would look as good without the suit. If they were mostly padding or real.
Marina frowned as she trotted after him. This was the second time in as many minutes that her mind had swung unexpectedly to the physical where this man was concerned. It wasn’t like her to have thoughts such as this. Well, not till recently, anyway, and certainly not about any man other than Shane.
Not that she’d had anything to do with any man other than Shane lately. She’d taken compassionate leave from her teaching position after her mother’s death and had stayed at home ever since, helping Shane with the administrative side of running the riding school. For the last few weeks her life had revolved around her fiancé and the astonishing things he could make her feel.
Her frown deepened as she tried to make sense of her unbidden responses to the Earl of Winterborne. Was her recent sexual awakening able to be transferred to any attractive man who came along? Had she turned into an ogler of male flesh? A female fantasiser?
The prospect appalled her. She’d never liked the way some women talked about men and sex all the time when they were together, as though there was nothing else in their lives. Or the way they stared openly at certain parts of the male anatomy.
Marina’s eyes drifted down from those broad shoulders to where Lord Winterborne’s suit jacket outlined what looked like a nicely shaped derrière.
You’re doing it now, that annoyingly honest voice piped in her head—the one which Marina could never deny.
And enjoying it, another sarcastic voice inserted slyly.
The first voice came to the rescue with a vengeance.
And what’s wrong with looking? it challenged belligerently. There’s no harm in looking!
She wants to do more than look. She’d like to touch, too. She’d like to see if an English earl makes love like an Aussie stablehand. She’d like to—
‘Oh, do shut up!’ she muttered aloud.
‘Pardon?’ The object of her mental warring glanced over his shoulder, slowing his stride at the same time.
Marina almost cannoned right into him. She stopped herself just in time, rocking backwards and forwards on her toes as she hitched the tapestry bag higher on her shoulder for added balance.
‘Nothing,’ she said with a blithe and decidedly false innocence. There was definitely nothing innocent going on in her mind at that moment. ‘Just talking to myself.’
‘You do that often?’ His drily amused smile did wickedly attractive things to his mouth. Marina decided she preferred him dead serious.
‘All the time,’ she admitted, wrenching her mind back from the path to hell with great difficulty. ‘I was an only child, and only children often talk to themselves. I used to talk to a tea-towel as well.’
‘A tea-towel?’ He laughed, and Marina gritted her teeth. Laughing did to his whole face what that smile had done to his mouth: transformed it from merely handsome to lethally sexy.
‘Why a tea-towel? Why not a doll? Or a teddy?’
Marina pulled a face. ‘It’s difficult to explain. The tea-towel wasn’t another person, or a pretend friend. It was me. Or another side of me. My…secret side.’
‘Sounds fascinating. Do you still talk to tea-towels?’ he asked as he walked on, more slowly this time, so that she fell into step with him by his side.
‘Not since I was eighteen.’
‘What happened to you at eighteen?’
‘I left home to go to teacher’s college. I didn’t think my new flatmates would indulge my peculiarities like my mother did. Since then, any conversations with my secret side take place in my head.’
He slanted a thoughtful glance across at her. ‘And how often do these conversations take place?’
‘Not that often nowadays.’ But she had an awful feeling they were about to pick up frequency.
‘Do you tell anyone about them?’
‘Lord, no!’
‘Not even your fiancé?’
Marina hesitated a fraction.
‘That is an engagement ring on your finger, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Marina had pretty well decided on the flight over that she’d blown the incident before leaving home way out of proportion, that of course she loved Shane and wanted to marry him. But her responses to the man standing before her had shaken that conviction anew. How could she possibly be in love with Shane and feel attracted to the earl of Winterborne?
It’s possible because this is not love, pointed out her pragmatic side. It’s just…attraction. He’s a very attractive man.
Marina found comfort in that thought. Yes, of course. Any woman would find this man attractive. He was the stuff female fantasies were made of. Handsome. Rich. Enigmatic. I’m not being disloyal to my feelings for Shane. I’m just being normal.
‘No,’ she answered levelly, after scooping in and letting out a steadying breath. ‘I definitely don’t tell Shane about them. He thinks I’m a very sensible, level-headed girl.’
That disturbing demi-smile surfaced again. ‘And you’re not?’
‘I do try to be.’ But I don’t always succeed, she thought ruefully.
‘When is your wedding?’
‘In three weeks.’
‘Three weeks!’ He sounded shocked. And almost disbelieving. ‘You’ve come all this way…and your wedding is only three weeks away?’
‘I would have come,’ she said truthfully, ‘even if the wedding had been tomorrow. My mother died of cancer. I could not have lived with myself if I had not come. And now that I have…I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to doing this for your Rebecca. As soon as it can be arranged, actually. Tomorrow if you like. You did say the sooner the better in your letter, didn’t you?’
He stopped and stared at her, then began shaking his head. ‘You are one special lady, Miss Marina Spencer. One very special lady. Tomorrow would be marvellous. But I thought you’d be too tired.’
‘What’s tired in the scheme of things? I can rest afterwards.’
‘And you will, too. As soon as you can leave the hospital, I’ll take you down to Winterborne Hall, where you can relax for a few days before flying home. It’s out in the country and quite beautiful at this time of year.’
‘But…’ A host of terrible thoughts rushed into her head which had nothing to do with relaxing. Marina tried to think of these new fantasies as just normal, but their explicit nature was very perturbing. ‘No, I’m sorry. I really can’t accept. For one thing I should be getting home to Shane. Besides, I… I wouldn’t like to impose on Lady Winterborne like that.’
He simply had to have a wife, a man such as this. Please God, let him have a wife, Marina prayed. I would never think thoughts like this about a married man. I know I wouldn’t.
‘There is no Lady Winterborne,’ he informed her coolly, and something inside her fluttered uncontrollably. ‘But there are a dozen guest bedrooms just dying to be used. And plenty of staff to see to your every whim. What’s a few days?’ he added temptingly, his eyes searching hers. ‘Your fiancé surely won’t expect you to jump on a plane straight out of hospital?’
‘I…I guess not. But I wouldn’t like to put you to—’
‘I insist,’ he broke in brusquely. ‘I will not take no for an answer.’