Читать книгу Tempted by the Border Captain - Blythe Gifford, Blythe Gifford - Страница 6

Mary studied Jamie’s face, wondering what he was plotting. “You used to tease me.” Unmercifully. “Do you do so now?”

“No,” he said without a smile.

A breeze shoved a cloud across the sun and in the shifting light of the courtyard, he looked as if he were thinking of someone. It must be how she looked when she thought of Oliver.

Who was she, this woman Jamie cared for? Jealousy pinched her.

“Well?” Jamie held out his hands, presenting himself for her approval. “What must I change?”

She cleared her throat, finding her heart was beating faster. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The grin again. “Then I am perfect as I am.” He folded his arms, as if the matter were settled.

“No!” She could not let him think that. “You are most assuredly not parfait. “

“Then what do I need to change?”

Suddenly, she could think of nothing about him that needed changing.

Mary stared at him, nursing her temper back to life. “Even if I teach you dancing and poetry, women will not find you attractive.”

If she had thought he would be dismayed by that, she was mistaken. “Why not?”

“Your eyes, for example. Women prefer blue eyes.”

“Do they now?” He crossed his eyes as if he were trying to see them.

A giggle escaped before she could stop it. “Well, some do.”

“Do you?” No laughter now. Just his brown eyes, holding hers.

She hesitated. She had pined for Johnnie Brunson’s blue eyes once. Then she had preferred Oliver Sinclair’s greenish ones. Right now, brown seemed infinitely preferable. Jamie’s eyes held at once a twinkle and a smolder, as if he were looking at her and thinking…

Goodness. What was he thinking?

Quickly, she glanced away. “I suppose some women like brown eyes.”

Her words restored his smile, but she could not let his smug expression stand. “But you are too tall! That, I can do nothing about!”

“Too tall?” He bent his neck to meet her eyes.

“Oui.” She hoped her voice held the proper conviction.

He tilted his head, as if considering, then put his hand on her shoulder. “Come, stand by me.”

He pulled her closer, and the closer she came, the taller he seemed. She reached only so high as his heart and had to tilt her head back to see his face.

His heart, now so near she could feel the beat of it.

And of her own.

“Yes,” she said, disguising the shake in her voice with annoyance. “You are most certainly too tall.” She stepped back. “That cannot be fixed.”

“Most women are not so short as you,” he answered. “Perhaps I could wed a taller woman.”

She fought an unwelcome twinge of regret. Let him wed who he would. She cared not. “No,” she said. “I can do nothing. Rien.”

He grabbed her hand, still within easy reach of his long arms. “You would force me to live my life alone?”

“Why not?” she said, fighting tears for Oliver. “I will live my own life so.”

She bit her lip. Too late to take back the words.