Winter Garden Read Free Page B

personally. Instead, she maintained a neutral expression and managed a general question. “Who owns this cottage, Thomas?”
    His brows rose fractionally. “I’m not certain.” He set the tray in the center of the tea table, reached for the pot, and poured two cups, placing one in front of her. “Sir Riley offered me only the key and directions. The few things in this room are mine that I brought with me from home. The bedroom furnishings andkitchen items were here when I arrived.”
    Madeleine adjusted the hem of her skirt, pulling it in so he could take a seat in the chair next to her without stepping on it. He lowered himself stiffly, cup and saucer in hand, regarding her.
    â€œThen you’re not from here,” she commented rather than asked, keeping her eyes fixed on his face.
    â€œI’m from Eastleigh, several hours to the north of here,” he returned without pause or pretense. “I’ve been to Winter Garden twice on holiday, although it’s been six or seven years since my last visit. I knew nobody when I arrived this time, but I’ve managed to meet several people and make some acquaintances during the last few weeks.”
    â€œI suppose that will be helpful to our cause,” she responded thoughtfully.
    â€œMmm.”
    An awkward moment passed silently. She glanced back to the marble piece she still held in her palm. “You’re a chess player, Thomas?”
    He raised his cup to his lips, taking a small sip of his steaming tea. “I play frequently. It helps me think, sometimes to relax.”
    His tone had dropped as her questioning grew personal, but she ignored the significance. “I imagine you play with someone from the village, then?”
    He was quiet for so long she felt compelled to raise her gaze back to his. Almost at once his expression had become clouded, intense.
    â€œOnly with myself, Madeleine,” he answered through a low, thick breath. “I’ve had no one to play with for quite some time.”
    She had absolutely no idea how to take that, feelingwarm suddenly from the closeness of his body and the heat of his eyes. Did he have any idea how suggestive that sounded to her? Like a secret, sensual remark between lovers. Without question, she knew that if they were in a room with ten people she would be the only one to find that statement erotic. Was he thinking the same?
    He watched her, his sculpted lips pulled back vaguely in challenge, his eyelids lowered just faintly. The muscles in her belly tightened, but she couldn’t turn away. Oh, yes. He knew. He knew exactly what he’d said, and he knew exactly how she’d interpret it.
    â€œDo you play?” he questioned, his voice dark, quiet.
    Madeleine blinked quickly and straightened, turning her attention to the chessboard beside her, very gently replacing the marble knight. “I can, although it’s been a while since I have,” she admitted with a diffidence that surprised her. “I assume you’re good, Thomas?”
    â€œI’m very good.”
    She hesitated. “Do you…usually win?”
    â€œMy skills haven’t failed me yet.”
    He hadn’t touched her at all, and yet she felt him, felt his puncturing stare—blatant, probing, daring.
    â€œI think I might enjoy the challenge,” she conceded quietly, looking back at his face with forced candor. “But perhaps you should know I also play to win.”
    He lengthened his body in his chair, stretching one booted leg out to rest on the footstool. “And do you?”
    â€œWin?”
    He nodded negligibly.
    She fidgeted on the sofa cushion, running a moist palm slowly along her thigh over her gown. “Usually,” she confided, her throat dry, tight.
    For a fleeting moment she was certain he almost smiled, something she had yet to see him do. Then he brought his cup to his lips again with slow, calculated precision, taking a long sip, never