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Authors: Johanna Lindsey
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difficult to manage after all. Just as long as he understood she wouldn’t allow any intimacies.
“But how am I to get to know you if you keep me at arm’s length? If you don’t like kissing, then we’ve got a problem.”
His approval of her seemed to rest on her answer. She bristled.
“I am not in the habit of letting strangers kiss me,” she said stiffly. “And you are still a stranger.”
Lucas shook his head. “You’re telling me to keep my distance, but if I go along with that, we’ll end up being strangers much longer than necessary. It’s going to take a few months as it is for me to find out if you can fit in here. Am I supposed to waste that amount of time and then find out if you and I are compatible?”
Sharisse was aghast. In his mind, it would be purely a waste of time if, after she passed muster in other ways, he discovered there was absolutely no chemistry between them. True. But what he was suggesting was abhorrent. Was she supposed to let him take liberties with her?
Sharisse drew on her years of contrived confidence. “Mr. Holt, I realize our situation is uniqueand I will have to make allowances for it. However, I really must ask for at least a little time to feel comfortable with you. After a while a kiss or two might be permissible—if you insist. More than that I simply cannot allow, not before we are wed. And if that is not satisfactory to you…”
Lucas knew when to back down. “I guess you can’t get more reasonable than that. Your room is right there on the left. I’ll get your things now.”
Sharisse sighed as he left and turned to look around. There were two doors on the left wall of the room she was standing in. The room was bigger than she had imagined, but it was the only room besides those two doors to the left. Against the back wall was a kitchen of sorts, a wood-burning stove, a sink with a hand pump, some cupboards cluttered with dishes, and a big table. A window behind the sink looked out on the backyard. There was a door to the left of the stove. The rest of the room, to her right, contained a fireplace with a thick rug in front of it and a gray wooden settee without cushions. Next to that, near the front door, were an old arrow-back rocker and a candle stand.
Sharisse felt her shoulders sag. It was such a depressing room. So austere. She shuddered to think what her bedroom would be like. She faced that door and opened it. The two windows inside it were open and the curtains drawn, letting in a cheery light, but also the heat. She couldn’t find a single thing to her liking and she didn’t try, moving quickly to the other bedroom before Lucas came back. This room proved more dramatic, withdark coloring and a look of being lived in. The bed was unmade, and a wardrobe stood open with dirty clothes slung over the doors. Other articles were scattered around. His room, to be sure. She was rather embarrassed to have looked in.
She closed the door quietly. Then it dawned on her. These three rooms were all there was. No servants’ quarters. That meant…
“How do you like the place?” Lucas asked as he walked in the front door carrying her luggage.
Sharisse couldn’t answer, not with the alarming thought that they would be the only two people sleeping in the house. “You don’t have…any servants here, do you?”
“Not the kind that see to a house, I don’t.” He gave her that engaging boyish grin. “Now you know why I need a wife.”
He was teasing her again, yet she was insulted. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to hire a servant?”
“A lot simpler,” he agreed. “But I couldn’t expect a servant to share my bed, could I?”
He said it so casually that Sharisse felt a tremor in her belly. Fear? She stayed where she was as he took her luggage into her room.
“You’ll want to get unpacked,” he called out, “and I recall you wanted a bath. I’ll see about that and some grub for you, then leave you to rest.” He came back into the room, and his
“But how am I to get to know you if you keep me at arm’s length? If you don’t like kissing, then we’ve got a problem.”
His approval of her seemed to rest on her answer. She bristled.
“I am not in the habit of letting strangers kiss me,” she said stiffly. “And you are still a stranger.”
Lucas shook his head. “You’re telling me to keep my distance, but if I go along with that, we’ll end up being strangers much longer than necessary. It’s going to take a few months as it is for me to find out if you can fit in here. Am I supposed to waste that amount of time and then find out if you and I are compatible?”
Sharisse was aghast. In his mind, it would be purely a waste of time if, after she passed muster in other ways, he discovered there was absolutely no chemistry between them. True. But what he was suggesting was abhorrent. Was she supposed to let him take liberties with her?
Sharisse drew on her years of contrived confidence. “Mr. Holt, I realize our situation is uniqueand I will have to make allowances for it. However, I really must ask for at least a little time to feel comfortable with you. After a while a kiss or two might be permissible—if you insist. More than that I simply cannot allow, not before we are wed. And if that is not satisfactory to you…”
Lucas knew when to back down. “I guess you can’t get more reasonable than that. Your room is right there on the left. I’ll get your things now.”
Sharisse sighed as he left and turned to look around. There were two doors on the left wall of the room she was standing in. The room was bigger than she had imagined, but it was the only room besides those two doors to the left. Against the back wall was a kitchen of sorts, a wood-burning stove, a sink with a hand pump, some cupboards cluttered with dishes, and a big table. A window behind the sink looked out on the backyard. There was a door to the left of the stove. The rest of the room, to her right, contained a fireplace with a thick rug in front of it and a gray wooden settee without cushions. Next to that, near the front door, were an old arrow-back rocker and a candle stand.
Sharisse felt her shoulders sag. It was such a depressing room. So austere. She shuddered to think what her bedroom would be like. She faced that door and opened it. The two windows inside it were open and the curtains drawn, letting in a cheery light, but also the heat. She couldn’t find a single thing to her liking and she didn’t try, moving quickly to the other bedroom before Lucas came back. This room proved more dramatic, withdark coloring and a look of being lived in. The bed was unmade, and a wardrobe stood open with dirty clothes slung over the doors. Other articles were scattered around. His room, to be sure. She was rather embarrassed to have looked in.
She closed the door quietly. Then it dawned on her. These three rooms were all there was. No servants’ quarters. That meant…
“How do you like the place?” Lucas asked as he walked in the front door carrying her luggage.
Sharisse couldn’t answer, not with the alarming thought that they would be the only two people sleeping in the house. “You don’t have…any servants here, do you?”
“Not the kind that see to a house, I don’t.” He gave her that engaging boyish grin. “Now you know why I need a wife.”
He was teasing her again, yet she was insulted. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to hire a servant?”
“A lot simpler,” he agreed. “But I couldn’t expect a servant to share my bed, could I?”
He said it so casually that Sharisse felt a tremor in her belly. Fear? She stayed where she was as he took her luggage into her room.
“You’ll want to get unpacked,” he called out, “and I recall you wanted a bath. I’ll see about that and some grub for you, then leave you to rest.” He came back into the room, and his
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