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Authors: Amelia Grey
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seemed to have noticed her head bumping the earl.
Lord Greyhawke carefully seated himself and rubbed his chin. “Never let it be said you are soft in the head, Miss Wright.”
A tremor of a smile threatened Katherine’s lips. She couldn’t help wondering if their meetings were destined to be a series of debacles. “And never let it be said that you can’t take one on the chin.”
She once again placed the cane against the table between her and the earl. Something about it being there made her feel as if it were a shield to protect her from her growing attraction to him.
“You do know our conversation earlier this evening would have been more congenial for both of us if you had simply told me you had injured your leg and couldn’t dance.”
Katherine drew in a breath and settled her hands in her lap as she looked at the earl. The lines in his forehead and around the edges of his mouth and eyes had tightened a bit. Judging from his expression, she sensed he was a little piqued at her. For some wickedly good reason, it pleased her that she’d managed to get under his skin as he had hers. She had already surmised that he was not the kind of man anyone could easily get the best of, no matter the situation.
“I seldom do anything the easy way, my lord.”
“So I learned the hard way. I will keep that bit of information in the forefront of my mind for the rest of the evening,” he said, more under his breath than to her as he unfolded his napkin with a shake before laying it across his lap.
Katherine had no qualms about placing the blame for their miscommunication squarely on his shoulders, where it rightly belonged. In a lighthearted tone she said, “I do have to admit that I was rather stunned you couldn’t see the very obvious cane in my hand.”
He relaxed against the back of the too-small chair and folded his arms across his chest in a comfortable manner that was far too informal for a dinner party at a duke’s house. “How could I when I couldn’t take my eyes off your beautiful face?”
Katherine’s brows drew together in disbelief, and then she relaxed and laughed lightly. “And I see I will have to keep in mind that you have no borders when it comes to flattery.”
“I only rely on it when it’s deserved, Miss Wright.”
“For some reason, I find I’m disinclined to believe that, my lord.”
“It’s the truth.” One corner of his mouth lifted in an attractive half grin. “So rather than enlighten me as to your predicament, you decided to just limp away and leave me feeling about two feet tall rather than just tell me you couldn’t dance?”
Limp away?
No, he was more than piqued. He thought she’d duped him in some way, and he was downright annoyed. She decided to savor the moment. Clearly, he was accustomed to being in control of every situation and getting his own way. If he was uncomfortable, it served him right for missing what was before his disarming eyes. Besides, she was sure he was exaggerating; she couldn’t imagine a man of his size feeling just two feet tall, no matter the circumstance.
Feigning concern, she said, “Two feet tall? Did you, my lord?”
“I did and you know it,” he grumbled lightly, and picked up the glass of wine sitting in front of him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
She smiled sweetly to let him know she wasn’t in the least bothered by him and also to let him know it didn’t upset her that he was frustrated with her. “Should I have held up my cane and said, ‘Look at this, my lord’?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “Or a simple ‘I’ve hurt my foot’ would have helped immensely.”
The temptation to needle him more was too great. She might as well keep the advantage while she had it. “I kept saying to myself, This man is obviously intelligent. He’s an earl. Surely he will soon figure out why I am declining his offer to dance.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but a servant bent between them and ladled a vegetable
Lord Greyhawke carefully seated himself and rubbed his chin. “Never let it be said you are soft in the head, Miss Wright.”
A tremor of a smile threatened Katherine’s lips. She couldn’t help wondering if their meetings were destined to be a series of debacles. “And never let it be said that you can’t take one on the chin.”
She once again placed the cane against the table between her and the earl. Something about it being there made her feel as if it were a shield to protect her from her growing attraction to him.
“You do know our conversation earlier this evening would have been more congenial for both of us if you had simply told me you had injured your leg and couldn’t dance.”
Katherine drew in a breath and settled her hands in her lap as she looked at the earl. The lines in his forehead and around the edges of his mouth and eyes had tightened a bit. Judging from his expression, she sensed he was a little piqued at her. For some wickedly good reason, it pleased her that she’d managed to get under his skin as he had hers. She had already surmised that he was not the kind of man anyone could easily get the best of, no matter the situation.
“I seldom do anything the easy way, my lord.”
“So I learned the hard way. I will keep that bit of information in the forefront of my mind for the rest of the evening,” he said, more under his breath than to her as he unfolded his napkin with a shake before laying it across his lap.
Katherine had no qualms about placing the blame for their miscommunication squarely on his shoulders, where it rightly belonged. In a lighthearted tone she said, “I do have to admit that I was rather stunned you couldn’t see the very obvious cane in my hand.”
He relaxed against the back of the too-small chair and folded his arms across his chest in a comfortable manner that was far too informal for a dinner party at a duke’s house. “How could I when I couldn’t take my eyes off your beautiful face?”
Katherine’s brows drew together in disbelief, and then she relaxed and laughed lightly. “And I see I will have to keep in mind that you have no borders when it comes to flattery.”
“I only rely on it when it’s deserved, Miss Wright.”
“For some reason, I find I’m disinclined to believe that, my lord.”
“It’s the truth.” One corner of his mouth lifted in an attractive half grin. “So rather than enlighten me as to your predicament, you decided to just limp away and leave me feeling about two feet tall rather than just tell me you couldn’t dance?”
Limp away?
No, he was more than piqued. He thought she’d duped him in some way, and he was downright annoyed. She decided to savor the moment. Clearly, he was accustomed to being in control of every situation and getting his own way. If he was uncomfortable, it served him right for missing what was before his disarming eyes. Besides, she was sure he was exaggerating; she couldn’t imagine a man of his size feeling just two feet tall, no matter the circumstance.
Feigning concern, she said, “Two feet tall? Did you, my lord?”
“I did and you know it,” he grumbled lightly, and picked up the glass of wine sitting in front of him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
She smiled sweetly to let him know she wasn’t in the least bothered by him and also to let him know it didn’t upset her that he was frustrated with her. “Should I have held up my cane and said, ‘Look at this, my lord’?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “Or a simple ‘I’ve hurt my foot’ would have helped immensely.”
The temptation to needle him more was too great. She might as well keep the advantage while she had it. “I kept saying to myself, This man is obviously intelligent. He’s an earl. Surely he will soon figure out why I am declining his offer to dance.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but a servant bent between them and ladled a vegetable
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