Patricia Rowell - A Dangerous Seduction

“I’m not.” Another thought occurred to Morgan. The man had been noticeably preoccupied with where Eulalia Hayne was sleeping. “He seemed very interested in our living arrangements. Has he ever accosted you?”

“Mmm…no.” Morgan did not miss the slight hesitation in her voice. “No, not exactly. He just… I don’t know. He is married, after all. Very likely I imagine it.”

“No, you do not.” He recognized that with the certainty of a man who senses a rival for the woman he wanted. “He doesn’t seem very highly principled, and you are very…” He let the sentence go. No need to rekindle her wariness of himself. Of course, the old rascal wanted her—her appetizing curves, her luscious skin. What man wouldn’t?

“Well, I do appreciate your sending him on his way. I am very tired of lectures on one subject or another.”

He brought himself back to the conversation with an effort. “You are too kind and polite. You do not have to receive him, you know.”

“I guess not.” She seemed startled. “Now that there is a butler in residence…”

“I suggest you make use of him.”

Climbing the stairs to her room, Lalia pondered his lordship’s advice. Too kind and polite? Perhaps so. Perhaps the reverend mistook that for encouragement. Surely not? She had not been that kind and polite. And he knew her to be married. Would a man of the cloth really…? Hmm. Yes, she would take Carrick’s suggestion. She would instruct the butler to deny her to Reverend Nascawan in the future.

How luxurious to have a butler! And how luxurious to have someone to defend her good name. His lordship had surprised her. Having him protect her from Nascawan’s innuendos had been… Well, a luxury she had not had since her father’s death. She had expected never to have it again. If only… Never mind. It was not likely that she would enjoy that protection for long.

The stonework in the great hall, one of the oldest parts of the house, had sustained quite a bit of damage over the centuries. Not since Morgan’s grandfather’s day had the family fortune been sufficient to keep the place up as it should have been. The graceful arches showed cracks and chunks of limestone had even fallen out in places. Morgan had spent the entire morning working with the stone mason, determining the needs.

He was closeted with the architect, arguing as to whether to keep the original fireplace, when his housekeeper appeared at the door. Morgan looked up in annoyance. He didn’t have time for interruptions today. “Yes, Mrs. Carthew?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, my lord.” She curtsied. “We seem to have an usually large number of summer vegetables in storage. Many of them cannot be preserved and will spoil before we can use them, and there is no more room in the cellar. James tells me that Mrs. Hayne is accustomed to giving them to those in need. I thought perhaps, if you don’t mind…”

Morgan waved a hand at her, turning back to the architect. “Of course, of course. Feel free to take them to someone.”

The housekeeper curtsied again. “I would, my lord, but I’m needed in the large dining room at the moment, and I see that you are occupied. I thought that if Mrs. Hayne is not busy today, perhaps…”

Morgan turned slowly to look at her, eyes narrowed. She looked perfectly innocent, if a little startled by his scrutiny. Apparently Mrs. Hayne had obeyed his previous order, but… “Did Mrs. Hayne suggest that?”

“No, my lord, but it would be a big help to me. I believe it will require more than one trip.”

“James?”

“James has gone to the smithy.”

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