like the sound of that,’ he said. ‘Maybe I should grow a moustache that I can twirl.’
‘And perhaps you could give up the whole idea,’ she said passionately. ‘Put the place back on the market, so it can be sold to someone who’ll contribute something valuable to the community, instead of causing it untold harm to satisfy some sudden whim about being a landowner, then walking away when he gets bored.’
She paused, ‘Which I suppose was what happened with Descent.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not exactly.’ He picked up his glass. Touched it to hers. ‘But here’s to sudden whims.’ Adding ironically, ‘Especially when they come at the end of a long and fairly detailed property search. Because I’m staying, sweetheart, so you and the rest of the neighbourhood will just have to make the best of it.’
He watched her fingers tighten round the stem of her own glass. ‘And if you’re planning to throw that over me, I’d better warn you that I shall reciprocate, causing exactly the kind of furore you seem anxious to avoid.
‘It’s up to you, of course, but why not try some and see that it’s too good to waste on meaningless gestures.’
She relinquished the glass, and reached for her bag. ‘On the whole, I’d prefer to go home.’
‘Then I shall follow you,’ he said silkily. ‘Begging, possibly on my knees, for very public forgiveness of some very private sin. How about, “Come back to me, darling, if only for the sake of the baby.” That should get tongues wagging.’
Tavy stared at him, assimilating the faint smile that did not reach his eyes, and unwillingly subsided, deciding she could not take the risk.
‘Very wise,’ he said. ‘Now, shall we begin the evening again? Thank you so much for giving me your company, Miss Denison. You look very lovely, and I must be the envy of every man in the room.’
The tawny gaze held hers, making it somehow impossible to look away. She said shakily, ‘Do you really think that’s what I want to hear from you?’
‘No,’ he said, with sudden curtness. ‘So let’s discuss the menus they’re bringing over to us instead. And please don’t tell me you couldn’t eat a thing, because I noticed you only picked at your lunch. And the chef has an award. You told me so yourself.’
‘Tell me something,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Why are you doing this?’
His smile was genuine this time, and, in some incredible way, even disarming.
‘A sudden whim,’ he said. ‘That I found quite irresistible. It happens sometimes.’
He added more briskly, ‘And now that I’ve satisfied your curiosity, let’s see what we can do for your appetite. Why don’t we begin with scallops?’
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