His voice was very gentle and his eyes concerned. Hester found herself being drawn in, taking one step towards him. She was a little frightened, it would be foolish to deny it. To tell him, to be held safely in those strong arms as he had held her in her bedchamber—the thought was powerfully seductive. And, after all, she knew where he had been all the time she had been out of the Moon House. It could not possibly be any doing of Guy Westrope’s.
‘I found them in the dining room just now…’ she began hesitantly. Something sparked in that deep blue gaze and she realised that she did not know where he had been for every minute of yesterday evening; at least one of the men had been strolling in the darkened gardens after the ladies had retired. It would have taken a matter of minutes to cross the road in the glimmer of moonlight and leave the dead bouquet, provided you had access to the house. And someone had, of that she was increasingly convinced; thoughts of ghosts were absurd. Someone could come and go in the Moon House, just as they wished.
And no one else had any reason for wanting to scare her away. Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, in her unfinished sentence. Guy’s eyes narrowed and he said, almost roughly, ‘If you will not confide in me, then take care, Hester. I do not like the symbolism of those roses.’
She gathered her tumbling wits, her voice cool. ‘And I do not like attempts to scare me away from my home. I told you Guy, I will not be bought out, and I would tell whoever is behind this that I will not be scared away either.’
He caught up her meaning with a directness that astonished her. ‘You think that I would attempt to frighten you away?’ Those expressive blue eyes showed nothing but concern that she could misjudge him.
Flustered to be taken up so directly, Hester returned to the attack. ‘I did not say so. But who else wants this house?’
‘No one who has made their wishes clear, apparently.’ His voice was dispassionate. ‘But that does not mean they do not exist.’ He had moved towards her slightly and Hester stepped back into the dining room. ‘I would remind you that I made my intentions perfectly clear—and made you a generous offer of compensation.’
‘Because you thought I was an elderly lady who might be cozened by a gentleman of your standing into complying with your desires,’ Hester retorted. Her breath was coming very short and for some reason she felt quite uncomfortably hot.
Guy chuckled. ‘I thought perhaps you would be a middle-aged widow,’ he admitted. ‘But as for my desires…’ Hester knew she was blushing. Of all the foolish words to have used! ‘Within one minute of seeing you I formed a strong desire to do this.’ And he took her very firmly in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.
Hester gasped, then realised her mistake, for he took instant advantage of her parted lips to deepen the caress. Her hands clenched against his chest and she realised faintly that she might as well be pushing against the wall. Without her conscious volition her fingers opened and her palms pressed against the fine broadcloth of his coat.
He seemed to consume every sense; the taste and the scent of him were novel and dangerously male. Her hearing was blurred by the sound of her own heartbeat, fast and excited. The feel of his mouth gently, but inexorably, roused her to trembling, yielding surrender in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she was hazily aware of the texture of his skin, the curl of his hair at the temple.
How long she might have stayed there in Guy’s arms she had no idea. There was a crash from the kitchen region and a wail from Susan and the next thing she knew Hester was standing unsupported against the dining-room door frame. Guy regarded her with eyes that seemed to spark sapphire fire and she hastily dropped her gaze to find herself staring at his mouth. The sensual curve of that was even worse. Anger seemed the only way to retrieve the situation.
‘My lord! That was outrageous!’
‘I thought it delightful,’ Guy remarked, taking a precautionary step backwards as Hester advanced towards him wrathfully.
‘I know exactly what you are about, my lord,’ she snapped, now too angry and flustered to be cautious. ‘You think you can flirt with me until I become too befuddled to resist your proposals and agree to sell the Moon House to you. Or else until I compromise myself in the eyes of local society and have to sell.’
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