Safe in the Earl's Arms by Liz Tyner

Author:Liz Tyner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Melina rose from the table, uncomfortable with the amount of food left in front of her. The platter held more boiled carrots and parsnips than had been taken. Parts of three different meats remained—one dark and spiced, small game of some kind and her favourite, one with the lightness of chicken resting in a pool of herbed juices.

Warrington ate, hardly looking at anything other than his food, his movements slow, as if he didn’t taste the meal in front of him.

He wore a dark coat and a gold-hued waistcoat under. The cravat at his neck drooped so it hardly stood out from the shirt. But when he moved his arm, the sleeve fell back at his hand. She could see the broadness of his wrist and the shape of the bone resting under the darkened skin. Hair spattered the back of his hand, hardly showing. Even the leanness of his fingers gave him a look of strength.

And if she doubted his power, she had only to let herself gaze at his shoulders or across his chest. He was born with command.

He’d not spoken during the whole meal. She’d not felt ignored because she had her own thoughts to consider. When she stood, he immediately put down his fork and rose. Grim eyes met hers.

‘We should go to the sitting room.’ Warrington stepped beside her, not touching, but close enough she could see a darkness of his jaw, hinting of stubble.

She paused, studying his face. He smiled—one he might have given a convict headed for the gallows.

She didn’t move. ‘What is it?’

‘I was just thinking of...’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. My wife. It’s too late to ask her questions now, and even if it weren’t, her answers... Why would anyone ask a question of someone who has repeatedly told lies—unless to see if the answer is so preposterous as to be laughable?’

He put a hand to Melina’s back and shepherded her towards the sitting room. Two candles were lit to dispel the gloom from the drizzling rain outside. ‘A man might ask a question of his wife and in his heart he knows the answer, but he wants to hear something to convince him he’s wrong.’ His voice was low, laced with ruefulness as if he couldn’t believe he spoke. ‘I suppose Shakespeare has written a play about it, or he should have. Doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have liked it.’

When he entered the sitting room, he stopped, frowning. ‘If you ever can’t sleep, make use of the books we have. Dane’s tomes on gardening are quite useful for nodding off.’ Warrington stood in front of the large, chintz-covered chair, but he didn’t sit. ‘I know you can read English because you wrote letters to send to your father, and I believe I even have several volumes in Greek.’

Melina walked in front of the books. She ran her finger over the titles. ‘I can’t read Greek. Neither of my sisters can. I would not know how

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