Winter Garden Read Free Page A

quietly. “Beth Barkley, the vicar’s daughter, comes in every other day to cook meals, clean, and collect the laundry. I had her put clean sheets on your bed this morning.”
    â€œI see.” She pulled her blue leather gloves from her fingers, still feeling mildly uncomfortable for reasons unknown to her. At least he didn’t appear to witness her discomfiture. “And where do you sleep, Thomas?”
    He stopped about three feet from her, hands on hips, apparently finding no underlying significance to her question. “I’ve taken the room upstairs. You’ll have plenty of privacy. The water closet is next to your room, at the end of the hall. We have no tub for bathing, but the local inn charges a minimal fee for the use of theirs, and it’s clean.”
    She attempted a smile and began to unbutton her cloak. “Thank you.” She really wished he would stop looking at her with such hard, assessing eyes, as if he didn’t recognize at all how feminine she was but instead found her…something of a contradiction, maybe?Certainly Sir Riley had told him what to expect of her. Yet he appeared to be studying her closely rather than admiring any part of her.
    â€œWould you like tea?” he asked politely, cutting into her thoughts.
    â€œYes, please,” was her quick response as she lifted her cloak from her shoulders.
    He reached out and took it and her gloves without comment, only briefly scanning her figure clothed in an ordinary traveling gown of sky-blue muslin. Then he turned and disappeared into the hallway once more.
    Madeleine shook herself and breathed in fully, trying to relax, fighting a tired, aching head and binding stays that had been wrapped around her middle for nearly ten hours. She needed to keep her mind clear and remember her purpose. She was here on government business, and so was he. His thoughts of her, his impression of her person, were irrelevant. Where he was concerned she couldn’t understand herself either, or her reactions to him upon first meeting. Usually, when choosing male companionship, she preferred dashing, sophisticated men of gentle breeding. Thomas Blackwood was unlike any she’d ever been attracted to before, yet that in itself intrigued her.
    She heard him rattling dishes in the kitchen but didn’t feel like walking in there herself. What would she say to him? Of course, they had plenty to discuss, but she felt more comfortable letting him lead the conversation, which he would undoubtedly do over tea. And she was far too restless to simply retire to her own room so early in the day.
    Instead, Madeleine entered the parlor proper. She liked the spacious feel of it, surprisingly light and airyconsidering the dark furniture, and windows that only faced north and west. The embers in the fireplace were low but would soon be stirred, coal added, to warm the house for the coming evening. Above the grate, on the mantel, she noticed a gold-faced clock indicating the time was nearly four, and next to it what appeared to be a wooden music box. She wondered if these were his things, if anything in the room was his. Certainly the chess set was. She didn’t know this for a fact, but the hardness of it, the solitude it implied, seemed to suit what little she knew of him.
    She stopped in front of the set and picked up a brown marble knight, rolling it between her thumb and fingers. It felt heavy, cold, sturdily sculpted. Yes, this was his.
    At the sound of his booted feet on the hard wooden floor she looked up. He walked into the room carrying a silver tray complete with china teapot and matching cups on saucers, a sugar bowl and pitcher of cream. He looked straight at her, into her eyes again, his expression flat and unreadable.
    She sank slowly onto the sofa, holding his gaze and trying not to smile at the picture he presented—the enormous, warrior god-man, dark and sensually arousing, carrying a tray to serve tea to her