Free Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999) by Mary Nichols

assure you, no one will come.’
    ‘There is Judith.’
    ‘Ah, the inestimable Judith. I have no doubt she would be a formidable opponent.’
    ‘Where is she? She was not in her room. I had thought to find her here.’
    ‘What! And have her spoil our little tête-a-tête!’ He paused to look at her. Her face was a picture of bewilderment and dismay, her expressive violet eyes open wide, her lovely lips slightly parted, unknowingly inviting more ungentlemanly behaviour, like that kiss. He could not forget it.
    What he had intended as a lesson to her, to demonstrate the dreadful fate which could befall her if she continued with her escapade, had been a salutary lesson to him instead. He had meant to be harsh with her, to take some of his own frustration and anger out on her, but instead he had found himself enjoying the taste of her lips, the feel of her softly curved body against his, the warmth of her. She had managed to rouse feelings in him of tenderness and compassion and a desire which had nothing to do with lustful gratification, however hard he tried to convince himself of the contrary.
    ‘Your maid is dining in the kitchen with Lucie,’ he went on, because she seemed to be struck dumb. ‘They will be company for each other even if they cannot converse.’ He smiled, wishing she would relax. She stood there, facing him, every muscle tense, as if waiting for a blow to fall. ‘Two silent women, a rare phenomenon, to be sure.’
    ‘It is nothing to jest about. You arranged that so that you might be alone with me.’
    ‘Naturally, I did. Her presence would certainly put a damper on proceedings.’
    ‘What proceedings?’
    Was she really as innocent as she seemed, or was it all a ploy to disarm him? ‘That depends on you.’
    ‘Sir, I asked you to escort me to Paris because you know my brother and could take me to him, and for no other reason. If you had any notion of anything else, I must disappoint you. If you cannot behave like a gentleman, I will retire to my room.’
    ‘Without your dinner? Are you not hungry?’
    ‘Not so hungry that I will stay and allow you to take liberties.’
    He laughed. ‘Do you have the least idea what that means?’
    ‘I know I should dislike it intensely.’
    ‘You would not, I guarantee it.’ He did not know why he was taunting her so. Was he testing her, seeing how far he could go before she was reduced to tears? He hated seeing a woman in tears; it always made him angry. He could deal with her better if he was angry. Anger was better than compassion. Compassion made you weak. Surprisingly she did not falter, neither did she attempt to leave the room.
    ‘You are insufferably arrogant and conceited,’ she said.
    ‘Audacious, arrogant, conceited,’ he said softly, changing his tactics. ‘Can you find no merit in me at all?’
    Unable to lie, she said nothing; she would not let him turn the tables on her and put her in the wrong. She looked from him to the door, and from the door to the table and its steaming tureen. She was very hungry.
    ‘So be it,’ he said, cheerfully abandoning his teasing. ‘Let us call a truce. It will not serve for us to be forever at odds, we still have some way to go. Now, sit down and eat, it might be the last nourishing meal you have for some time.’
    Reluctantly Kitty sat down, knowing she could not fight him physically. Her only recourse was to appeal to his sense of chivalry. He must surely have one, or he would not have brought them thus far without harming them, or allowing them to be harmed by others. But he made a very strange knight.
    ‘Now,’ he said, filling a plate from the tureen and putting it in front of her, ‘we will stop this cat-and-mouse game and talk sensibly.’
    She began picking at her food, but hunger overcame good manners and she tucked into the delicious food with every appearance of enjoyment. But she was still wary. And curious.
    ‘Who is she?’ she asked, realising he was not eating himself but was