Thunder and Roses by Mary Jo Putney Page A

Nicholas turned his head, freeing her from the spell of his gaze. “Shall we see what the cook is capable of? I haven’t had a real meal since returning to Aberdare, so I have no idea how skillful he is. In fact, I don’t know if the cook is a him or a her.”
     
    “I talked to Williams earlier, and he said that one of the two maids, Gladys, has been pressed into service as temporary cook,” Clare said, hoping that she sounded composed. “You don’t need a mock mistress—you need a housekeeper to order your household.”
     
    “Can’t you be both?”
     
    Once again he put his hand in the small of her back, gently possessive. She flinched, for
     
    her gown and shift were thinner than the garments she had worn earlier, and the effect was almost as intimate as if he had put his palm on her bare flesh.
     
    He noticed, of course. “And here I thought that you were becoming more at ease with me,” he said softly. “You needn’t be fearful, Clare.”
     
    She scowled up at him. “If I had any sense at all, I’d be terrified. You’re twice my size and probably four times my strength, and I’m entirely at your mercy. The fact that I am voluntarily under your roof means that you could do anything short of murder and most people would say that it was only what I deserved for my shameless conduct.”
     
    His face darkened. “Let me repeat: I have no interest in unwilling women. In spite of my worldly rank and greater physical strength, you hold the ultimate power between us, for you have the right to say no. For example …” He raised his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
     
    The slow movement burned across her skin, seductive and alarming. Clare felt suddenly vulnerable, as if his touch was stripping away her common sense and exposing unadmitted longings.
     
    He murmured, “Shall I continue?”
     
    With all her heart, she wanted to say yes. Instead she snapped, “No!”
     
    His hand fell instantly. “See how easy it is to stop me.”
     
    He thought that she had done that easily? Apparently he wasn’t all-knowing. Nerves in shreds, she said, “Why don’t you take your kiss for the day and get it over with? I’ll enjoy dinner more if I don’t feel like a mouse being stalked by a cat.”
     
    He smiled lazily. “My turn to say no. Anticipation is part of the pleasure of lovemaking. Since I can only be sure of one kiss, I wish to delay it as long as possible.” He guided her into the dining room. “So fear not—I promise not to leap across the table before you’ve fortified yourself with food.”
     
    He must know that her real fear was not that he wouldn’t stop, but that she would be incapable of saying no. The thought strengthened her resolve. Yes, he was powerful and infinitely more experienced than she, but that didn’t mean that she had to lose their contest. It was up to her to be stronger.
     
    That goal in mind, she encouraged him to talk about his travels rather than more personal subjects. To her surprise, he had traveled extensively on the Continent. After he mentioned a visit to Paris, she asked, “How did you manage to see so much of Europe when Napoleon has closed the Continent to Britons?”
     
    “By traveling with my disreputable kinfolk. Even Napoleon’s armies can’t stop Gypsies from going where they will. When I joined a kumpania, I became just another Romany horse trader. No one ever guessed that I was British.” Giving up on his over-salted leek soup, he poured wine for each of them.
     
    She pushed away her own soup bowl with relief; it was amazingly bad. “If you’d any taste for spying, traveling as a Gypsy would have been a perfect disguise.”
     
    Nicholas broke out coughing. When she looked at him in surprise, he managed to say, “Swallowed the wrong way.”
     
    Clare cocked her head to one side. “Was that coincidence, or a guilty reaction because you actually were involved in intelligence gathering?”
     
    “You are definitely