Free Beyond A Wicked Kiss by Jo Goodman

haughtiness that was the hallmark of his father and brother, was neither warm nor welcoming. The smile was slight and the angle of that damnably raised eyebrow suggested a certain remoteness, as if he were exercising the right to be more observer than participant in whatever drama would occur. Most telling was that neither dimple was in evidence.
    Ria was of the opinion that gravity did not sit easily upon West's shoulders and that the countenance he presented her was somewhat forced. She could not conceive that he had adopted this mien out of respect for his father. It was more likely that he had decided his responsibilities as her guardian must be discharged in an overbearing, high-handed fashion.
    She thought she might prefer that he hold his knife to her throat.
    West's head dipped a fraction in greeting as his eyes surveyed her. "You are looking well. The accommodations were satisfactory?"
    "Yes, thank you. It was kind of you to see to everything."
    "It was not kind, but necessary."
    So it was to be like that, Ria thought. He did not mean to support an easy communication between them. It seemed that if an opportunity presented itself to reproach her for what he still considered her precipitous behavior and poor judgment, then he would make the most of it.
    West indicated that Ria should precede him to the sideboad. Once there, he uncovered the dishes and invited her to take her fill. Tempering his amusement, he watched her crowd her plate with slices of bacon, tomato, and toast with jam. When they were seated at the table, Ria chose a soft-cooked egg, cracked it expertly with the bowl of her spoon, then began to peel back the shell. It was at this point that she looked up and realized West had yet to help himself to anything but his coffee.
    Ria slowly lowered her spoon. She had been about to set upon her meal like the veriest street urchin.
    "What are you doing?" West asked.
    What remained of Ria's dignity was shattered when her stomach growled with considerable ferocity. The apology she had been about to put forward simply died on her lips and she flushed hotly.
    West did not waste gray matter on determining when Ria had last eaten. Clearly, it had been too long since her last meal. "Eat," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Do not stand on ceremony. I do not."
    Mortification made Ria's eyes slide away from West's direct gaze. She stared at her plate, then her lap. Her fingers loosened around her spoon enough to allow her to set it aside.
    "Never say that something so trifling as a lapse in good manners makes you come undone," West goaded her gently. He regarded the warm muffin and strips of crisp bacon on his plate. "I would not have anticipated that, given the rousing defense you mustered last evening." Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he split the muffin and lightly spread sweet butter on the halves. When she still was not roused to begin eating, he raised his soft-cooked egg, set it in its cup, and thwacked the crown loudly with his spoon. He took it as a good sign that the noise gave her a start, but she still would not raise a morsel of food to her mouth. There was nothing for it but that he tuck into his meal. He bit into a muffin half and hoped it would be enough to encourage her as he had little in the way of appetite.
    Ria picked up a triangle of toast and put it to her lips. She was careful to take small bites.
    "God's truth, but you are stubborn." West offered this simply as an observation, without rancor. "I believe you would starve rather than break your fast before me. It seems rather oddly done by you."
    Looking at him askance, she sighed. "You mean to go on about it, don't you?"
    "I am of a mind to do so, yes."
    It was his perfectly arid accents that made the corners of Ria's mouth turn up ever so slightly. She could not have predicted that he would have this agreeably curious sense of humor, nor known that she would find it so much to her liking. There had been so little of late that