wouldn't be much of a man if he did," Jed stated with a curling suggestive smile. "A warm summer afternoon, a shady glade, a blanket on the ground, and you as a companion on that blanket—I certainly wouldn't be thinking about my work."
"You are impossible, Jed Carrel!" Elizabeth muttered. Walking angrily to the closet, she jammed the hanger hook on to the horizontal pole. "You twist everything until it manages to come out cheap and sordid."
"Do I do that?" He tipped his head to one side in laughing inquiry.
"You know very well you do." She removed the tissue from the last box.
"I'd better offer my apologies, then."
"Don't bother to pretend that you feel regret," she cut in sharply. The last outfit was in the closet and she began busily gathering the boxes and tissues together, loading her arms with them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do," she flashed with biting sarcasm.
"Please accept my thanks for choosing my wardrobe, even if it was at Mother's instigation." Again there was an underlying hint of mockery in his tone.
"It's only sheep's clothing, Jed," Elizabeth tossed over her shoulder before leaving the room. His throaty laughter followed her down the hail.
The evening meal was routinely eaten at seven o'clock, a time that had been chosen not because Rebecca thought it fashionable, but because her late husband had always worked past the five o'clock of-rice hours. The habit of eating at that hour had been too deeply ingrained to be changed after his death. Elizabeth had never minded it. It seemed to make the long evenings go by faster.
Allan Marsden telephoned her as he had promised, but his call came just as she was setting dinner on the table. She was on the living room extension when Jed wandered into the room. Staring at the brown suit he was wearing, one that she had chosen, she was stunned by the way it enhanced his dark virility. The suit fitted his muscular leannes so perfectly that it might have been tailor-made for him.
For a full second Elizabeth was aware only of his disturbing presence. Then she realized that Allan's voice was repeating the time of their planned outing and waiting for her acknowledgment. Forcing her clamoring senses to ignore Jed, she concentrated on the male voice on the telephone.
"Sunday at two is fine, Allan," she agreed with false enthusiasm. "Amy and I will be ready then. Are you certain there's nothing I can bring?"
"I've arranged for everything," he replied. "I didn't allow myself to consider the possibility that you might refuse. I'm glad you didn't, Elizabeth."
"Yes, well," she glanced apprehensively at Jed, realizing suddenly that he had no intention of leaving the room and that he was perfectly aware she was talking to Allan. He was deliberately eavesdropping, Anger flashed in her green eyes, prompting a flicker of amusement in the tawny eyes lazily watching her. "I really have to let you go now, Allan. We were just sitting down to dinner."
"Of course." Allan didn't seem perturbed by her sudden desire to end the conversation. "I'll see you Sunday."
"Yes, Sunday," she agreed quickly. "Goodbye, Allan."
She was already replacing the receiver as Allan's goodbye echoed into the room. There was an instant's hesitation as she considered commenting on Jed's bad manners at listening in before deciding such a comment would only lead to an arrogantly mocking reply.
"Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes," Elizabeth stated, turning away from him as she spoke.
"There's no need to hurry on my account," Jed responded calmly.
Clamping her mouth shut, she refused to be baited into replying and walked swiftly from the room. He might not have felt the need for haste, but Elizabeth did. She wanted to get the meal over with as quickly as possible. A little voice told her that she was becoming much too conscious of him and she would be very foolish if she let him disturb the even tenor of her life.
In the middle of the meal, Elizabeth remembered
"You are impossible, Jed Carrel!" Elizabeth muttered. Walking angrily to the closet, she jammed the hanger hook on to the horizontal pole. "You twist everything until it manages to come out cheap and sordid."
"Do I do that?" He tipped his head to one side in laughing inquiry.
"You know very well you do." She removed the tissue from the last box.
"I'd better offer my apologies, then."
"Don't bother to pretend that you feel regret," she cut in sharply. The last outfit was in the closet and she began busily gathering the boxes and tissues together, loading her arms with them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do," she flashed with biting sarcasm.
"Please accept my thanks for choosing my wardrobe, even if it was at Mother's instigation." Again there was an underlying hint of mockery in his tone.
"It's only sheep's clothing, Jed," Elizabeth tossed over her shoulder before leaving the room. His throaty laughter followed her down the hail.
The evening meal was routinely eaten at seven o'clock, a time that had been chosen not because Rebecca thought it fashionable, but because her late husband had always worked past the five o'clock of-rice hours. The habit of eating at that hour had been too deeply ingrained to be changed after his death. Elizabeth had never minded it. It seemed to make the long evenings go by faster.
Allan Marsden telephoned her as he had promised, but his call came just as she was setting dinner on the table. She was on the living room extension when Jed wandered into the room. Staring at the brown suit he was wearing, one that she had chosen, she was stunned by the way it enhanced his dark virility. The suit fitted his muscular leannes so perfectly that it might have been tailor-made for him.
For a full second Elizabeth was aware only of his disturbing presence. Then she realized that Allan's voice was repeating the time of their planned outing and waiting for her acknowledgment. Forcing her clamoring senses to ignore Jed, she concentrated on the male voice on the telephone.
"Sunday at two is fine, Allan," she agreed with false enthusiasm. "Amy and I will be ready then. Are you certain there's nothing I can bring?"
"I've arranged for everything," he replied. "I didn't allow myself to consider the possibility that you might refuse. I'm glad you didn't, Elizabeth."
"Yes, well," she glanced apprehensively at Jed, realizing suddenly that he had no intention of leaving the room and that he was perfectly aware she was talking to Allan. He was deliberately eavesdropping, Anger flashed in her green eyes, prompting a flicker of amusement in the tawny eyes lazily watching her. "I really have to let you go now, Allan. We were just sitting down to dinner."
"Of course." Allan didn't seem perturbed by her sudden desire to end the conversation. "I'll see you Sunday."
"Yes, Sunday," she agreed quickly. "Goodbye, Allan."
She was already replacing the receiver as Allan's goodbye echoed into the room. There was an instant's hesitation as she considered commenting on Jed's bad manners at listening in before deciding such a comment would only lead to an arrogantly mocking reply.
"Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes," Elizabeth stated, turning away from him as she spoke.
"There's no need to hurry on my account," Jed responded calmly.
Clamping her mouth shut, she refused to be baited into replying and walked swiftly from the room. He might not have felt the need for haste, but Elizabeth did. She wanted to get the meal over with as quickly as possible. A little voice told her that she was becoming much too conscious of him and she would be very foolish if she let him disturb the even tenor of her life.
In the middle of the meal, Elizabeth remembered
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