Читать книгу Redeeming The Roguish Rake - Liz Tyner, Liz Tyner - Страница 16
Оглавление‘Bran...ee...’ he mumbled, turning away. Brandy. He needed the brandy he’d sent to his father’s estate.
He should put some space between Rebecca and himself. A road. A town, even.
‘Ale.’ He changed his request. Anything to create movement—distance between them.
She whirled around, poured a swallow of ale and diluted it with enough water to make it tasteless. She handed it to him, moving so fast their fingers couldn’t touch.
Then she dashed away to pick up her stitching.
He looked at the glass. He wanted to down it, but he couldn’t. He drank, ignoring the pain. Finally, he thumped the empty glass on to the table, much like he did during the contest with Lady Havisham.
Then, he moved the chair beside Rebecca and sat.
After she did three more stitches, he leaned forward, tugging on the little dress.
Her eyes moved to his face.
‘Do you need something?’
He gave a bump of his shoulders.
She started stitching again. Her words jumped one after the other. ‘I do need to get this finished. The babe could arrive any day, or I could be called to care for the other children. And once she needs me I’ll be busy for a time.’
He tugged at the little skirt, but she didn’t stop stitching as she pulled it away. Surely she understood he could not kiss her.
‘...and all the little boys she has are just like you. Except they are children and they have an excuse.’
He grasped the dress, held firm and pulled it slowly away from her. She had no choice but to tumble towards him or stop stitching.
She picked up her scissors and rapped his hand. Instantly, he released the fabric and touched the tapped spot. He glared at her. He felt worse about not being able to kiss her than she did. And he was certain that scissor tap was punishment. Punishment he didn’t deserve. He deserved a sword-tap on each shoulder, not a clunk from a pair of dull scissors.
‘Oh, my pardon,’ she said, smug. ‘Perhaps I did that harder than I meant. Forgive me.’
Then she looked at him, eyes wide. ‘Oh, you must forgive me, mustn’t you? You have no choice.’ She chuckled softly and began sewing, pulling the last of the thread through the garment. ‘I know how that feels.’
He didn’t. Forgiveness was only for people unable to plot a good revenge.
