Free My Brown-Eyed Earl by Anna Bennett Page A

Those subtle nuances of language are lost on me.”
    â€œHow convenient.”
    â€œIn any event, Gibson is setting a place for you as we speak. And we still have a few matters left to discuss.” He picked up their glasses and strolled to the sideboard where he proceeded to refill them.
    Grasping at straws, Meg said, “I’m not dressed properly.” It was a gross understatement. Her utilitarian navy dress was meant for running errands in Town or performing light chores—not for sipping wine at an elegant candlelit table.
    â€œWould you like to change?” the earl offered.
    Meg’s cheeks heated again. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring any suitable gowns with me.”
    He returned to the armchair where she sat, handed her the glass of port, and rubbed the light stubble on his chin. She could almost see his mind replaying the scene in the dress shop earlier that afternoon. “It’s taking a considerable amount of restraint not to say I told you so.”
    â€œYes, you are ever the gentleman, my lord,” she said through her teeth.
    â€œFortunately, only the two of us will be dining this evening, and I don’t mind your dress.”
    She took a healthy swallow of port. “I think we both know that you do.”
    â€œWell then,” he said quite seriously, “maybe I’ve become so accustomed to seeing it that it no longer affects me.”
    â€œCareful, Lord Castleton, or you shall turn my head.”
    He chucked, then offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the dining room.
    Meg hesitated. Their bodies had touched in the park, but that hadn’t been by choice. And she had an awareness of him now—so much so, that the simple act of taking his arm seemed fraught with peril.
    Though it bordered on rude, she decided to refuse. “Thank you, but I don’t require an escort.” To demonstrate, she quickly hoisted herself out of the chair—and felt a sudden rush of dizziness. Her legs refused to obey orders from her head, and her knees buckled. Her glass crashed to the floor, and the dark port splattered everywhere.
    She would have fallen onto the shards of glass if the earl hadn’t wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her against him. While the walls swirled around her and the furniture tilted, he held her tightly. Rock solid, he seemed to be the only thing in the room that wasn’t swaying.
    â€œWhoa,” he said softly. He set down his glass and curled a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Are you all right?” He didn’t loosen his hold or give her space to test her legs. His hip was pressed snugly against her side, and his face was so close that she could see the individual spikes of his lashes and a small scar along his jaw.
    â€œI stood too quickly, and … the port.” But the port was not to blame for her inability to form a coherent sentence. That unfortunate development was entirely the earl’s fault. “I am fine.”
    â€œWould you tell me if you were not?” The low timbre of his voice vibrated through her, and a teasing smile played about his full lips. At the small of her back, his large hand held her tightly. Almost … possessively.
    â€œPerhaps not. But I will confess I am embarrassed about the mess.” Her gaze flicked to the port-soaked rug. “I should get something to clean it up.”
    â€œGibson will take care of it.” The earl smoothly released her waist and grasped her upper arms lightly as if he were trying to balance her. “When did you last eat?”
    â€œIt’s been … a few hours.” Breakfast, actually.
    He arched a brow. “You need food in your belly. I am going to escort you into the dining room. This can happen in one of two ways. Either you can take my arm, or I can carry you over my shoulder. It’s your choice, Miss Lacey.”
    The glint in his eye said he