threw a glance her way but Sabrina’s attention was apparently fixed on the book. Jacinta glared. He smiled faintly.
Then he turned and took the clean shirt offered him. Sabrina glanced up from beneath her lashes, caught a glimpse of a lean waist and narrow hips and very long legs, and looked away again. Spots of colour leapt into her face. Years spent in the wake of the army meant that she was no stranger to the sight of semi-dressed men, but this one possessed an almost sculptural beauty. Its effect was to make the room seem a lot warmer.
Unaware of the sensations he was creating, Falconbridge finished dressing. Sabrina surveyed him closely now, making no more pretence at reading. The dark coat might have been moulded to his shoulders. Waistcoat and linen were faultless. The cream-coloured breeches fitted like a second skin. She drew in a deep breath. Becoming aware of her regard he smiled faintly.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘Oh, no, I beg you will not regard it,’ she replied. ‘I have been quite entertained.’
Across the room Willis made a strange choking sound and received an icy stare from Jacinta. Falconbridge raised an eyebrow. Sabrina’s cheeks went scarlet.
‘With my book, I mean.’
‘But of course,’ he replied. ‘What else?’
The innocent tone didn’t deceive her for a moment. He was outrageous. Moreover, he was enjoying himself. She heard him dismiss the two servants. When they had gone, he took the volume from her hand and examined the cover.
‘Lazarillo de Tormes. Does your father know?’
‘Of course he knows. He lent—’ She broke off, seeing the slow grin spread across his face. The gleam in the grey eyes was deeply disconcerting.
‘Did he? Well, he really has attended to every part of his daughter’s education.’
She wondered if he were shocked. It was, she admitted, a real possibility, for, while the concept of the picaresque novel was hardly new, this one could be read on different levels—particularly its numerous sexual metaphors.
‘Do you disapprove?’
‘Not at all.’ He paused. ‘Do you care?’
‘No.’ The word was out before she could stop it. She hurried on, ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘You weren’t—just beautifully frank.’
‘Father always encouraged me to read widely.’
‘So I gather.’ He glanced again at the cover. ‘And it is a wickedly good book, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, very.’
‘Wicked or good?’
His expression drew a reluctant laugh. ‘Both, since you ask.’
‘Good girl.’
Unsure how to take this, she eyed him quizzically. He laid the book aside and then gestured to the door.
‘Shall we?’
* * *
Dinner that evening comprised local fare but it was well cooked. Sabrina was hungry, too, after their day on the road. The conversation was kept to general topics but she found her companion informed on a wide variety of subjects. It came as no surprise now. She was forced to acknowledge that none of the officers she had met in recent times had interested her half so much. He had told her something of his background but only the essentials. All in all, she thought, he volunteered very little about himself. It roused her curiosity.
‘Tell me some more about your family,’ she said. ‘Your brother, for instance.’
The genial expression became more guarded. ‘What about him?’
‘You said you weren’t close. May I ask why?’
His fingers tightened on the stem of his wine glass, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly level. ‘We had a disagreement. It was some years ago.’
‘And you’ve never been reconciled?’
‘No.’
‘How sad. What did you argue about?’ The question had been innocent enough but the grey eyes hardened. Sabrina was mortified. ‘Forgive me. I had no right to ask that.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He paused as though inwardlydebating something. Then he said, ‘It was over a woman, as it happened.’
‘Ah, you both liked the same
Then he turned and took the clean shirt offered him. Sabrina glanced up from beneath her lashes, caught a glimpse of a lean waist and narrow hips and very long legs, and looked away again. Spots of colour leapt into her face. Years spent in the wake of the army meant that she was no stranger to the sight of semi-dressed men, but this one possessed an almost sculptural beauty. Its effect was to make the room seem a lot warmer.
Unaware of the sensations he was creating, Falconbridge finished dressing. Sabrina surveyed him closely now, making no more pretence at reading. The dark coat might have been moulded to his shoulders. Waistcoat and linen were faultless. The cream-coloured breeches fitted like a second skin. She drew in a deep breath. Becoming aware of her regard he smiled faintly.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘Oh, no, I beg you will not regard it,’ she replied. ‘I have been quite entertained.’
Across the room Willis made a strange choking sound and received an icy stare from Jacinta. Falconbridge raised an eyebrow. Sabrina’s cheeks went scarlet.
‘With my book, I mean.’
‘But of course,’ he replied. ‘What else?’
The innocent tone didn’t deceive her for a moment. He was outrageous. Moreover, he was enjoying himself. She heard him dismiss the two servants. When they had gone, he took the volume from her hand and examined the cover.
‘Lazarillo de Tormes. Does your father know?’
‘Of course he knows. He lent—’ She broke off, seeing the slow grin spread across his face. The gleam in the grey eyes was deeply disconcerting.
‘Did he? Well, he really has attended to every part of his daughter’s education.’
She wondered if he were shocked. It was, she admitted, a real possibility, for, while the concept of the picaresque novel was hardly new, this one could be read on different levels—particularly its numerous sexual metaphors.
‘Do you disapprove?’
‘Not at all.’ He paused. ‘Do you care?’
‘No.’ The word was out before she could stop it. She hurried on, ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘You weren’t—just beautifully frank.’
‘Father always encouraged me to read widely.’
‘So I gather.’ He glanced again at the cover. ‘And it is a wickedly good book, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, very.’
‘Wicked or good?’
His expression drew a reluctant laugh. ‘Both, since you ask.’
‘Good girl.’
Unsure how to take this, she eyed him quizzically. He laid the book aside and then gestured to the door.
‘Shall we?’
* * *
Dinner that evening comprised local fare but it was well cooked. Sabrina was hungry, too, after their day on the road. The conversation was kept to general topics but she found her companion informed on a wide variety of subjects. It came as no surprise now. She was forced to acknowledge that none of the officers she had met in recent times had interested her half so much. He had told her something of his background but only the essentials. All in all, she thought, he volunteered very little about himself. It roused her curiosity.
‘Tell me some more about your family,’ she said. ‘Your brother, for instance.’
The genial expression became more guarded. ‘What about him?’
‘You said you weren’t close. May I ask why?’
His fingers tightened on the stem of his wine glass, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly level. ‘We had a disagreement. It was some years ago.’
‘And you’ve never been reconciled?’
‘No.’
‘How sad. What did you argue about?’ The question had been innocent enough but the grey eyes hardened. Sabrina was mortified. ‘Forgive me. I had no right to ask that.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He paused as though inwardlydebating something. Then he said, ‘It was over a woman, as it happened.’
‘Ah, you both liked the same
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