I Adored a Lord by Katharine Ashe Page A

it?”
    â€œYou wield an impressive pitchfork.”
    â€œI know how to use the tines too.” A smile played about her lips, a reluctant smile that begged a man to set his lips to it and tease it into fullness.
    Oh, no .
    â€œI do not doubt it,” he said, backing away. “And I will hold you to that should I decide I need assistance in hastening my end.” Turning away from the temptress, he started along the corridor again. But . . . he had to know. He looked over his shoulder. “How did you know what colhões meant?”
    â€œI guessed.”
    â€œYou guessed?”
    â€œI spend a lot of time with stable hands and farmers. Now, what about the other apology you owe me?”
    Looking into her upturned face, he wished he had a list of sins for which he must apologize. Last night, if he’d had his wits about him, he might not have returned her attack. Instead he might have seduced slowly, carefully, and succeeded. He might have enticed her to him, tempting her to touch him voluntarily. Then, in the dark he might have allowed his hands to explore those hips and that waist, to smooth up to her breasts, round and young and the perfect size for a man’s hands, to press her knees apart and—­
    No .
    He shook his head. “I did nothing else to you.” Deeply regrettable .
    â€œNot that . What about Lady Grace in the drawing room?”
    Ah. The champagne rescue. Cats like Whitebarrow’s daughters needed to be served occasional doses of humility. It was good for their souls. “Don’t thank me.” He waved it off. “I did nothing.”
    â€œYou made it worse.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThey are furious with me for having witnessed Lady Grace’s embarrassment.”
    â€œBut they ceased insulting you, didn’t they?”
    A mulish frown marred her brow. “I can defend myself.”
    â€œYou were clearly doing a spectacular job of it.”
    Ravenna stared into eyes the color of midnight and did not like it that laughter and warmth lurked there. This handsome, virile nobleman could know nothing of her daily struggle not to tell girls like Penelope and Grace exactly what she thought of them. Standing here with a sapphire nestled in his snowy, starched cravat and aristocratic blood stamped all over his face, he couldn’t understand anything worthwhile. But nothing came to her tongue. The crease teasing at his left cheek muddled her head, just as his lips upon hers had.
    â€œMm hm,” he murmured, his midnight eyes intent. “I thought so. Good night, Miss Caulfield. Pleasant dreams plotting your revenge.” He bowed. His gait as he walked away was not entirely even. He favored his left leg, the leg she’d hit with the pitchfork.
    Guilt and some confusion tangled in her belly. “I absolutely will not dream of you, even to plan revenge,” she said to his back.
    Over his shoulder he turned a smile upon her that sent her breath into her toes. For a moment, almost, his smile seemed regretful. “I was referring to your revenge upon Ladies Penelope and Grace, of course,” he said.
    An alien sensation swept into her face. She touched her cheek. It was hot. Hot?
    At a slow pace he returned to her. His smile had vanished. He halted before her and bowed again, this time soberly.
    â€œMiss Caulfield, I beg your forgiveness.” His voice was low and his gaze seemed to seek hers quite closely. “I intended you no harm, in truth. Still, I was unpardonably dishonorable to assail you and then tease you and then rescue you and then tease you yet again. Can you forgive me, or will those eyes like stars stare with accusation at me throughout the remaining weeks of this fete?”
    Eyes like stars? It was a very good thing she didn’t regularly consort with lords. Their rote flatteries were positively inane. “You are still teasing. And you ask my forgiveness in the same words you asked Lady