He blinked as though she’d managed to stun him. And then he chuckled—a deep, intoxicating laugh that she felt low in her belly. “Forgive me,” he said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “But as long as we’re being truthful, I have a confession to make.”
Sophie braced herself and resisted the urge to reach for her glass of brandy. “Go on.”
“I was sincere when I said that it isn’t my intent to seduce you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t desire you, Sophie. In fact, it’s difficult for me to imagine a woman more desirable.” His gaze, undeniably hot, lingered on her face for several heartbeats.
Like a dormant bulb feeling the sun after a long, brutal winter, her body unfurled, blossoming with warmth. “The conversation seems to have veered off course,” she said, doing her best impression of Miss Haywinkle. “The point is that I want to be clear about our agreement. You will permit me to use this room every Friday night between the hours of seven and eleven o’clock. Afterward, I shall endeavor to create an atmosphere that’s conducive to sleep—but I make no guarantees.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, wary. “What, exactly, is going to happen here between the hours of seven and eleven?”
Sophie purposely ignored the question. “That brings me to rule number one.”
“We have rules?”
“You will make no inquiries about my use of the building and will stay far away during the aforementioned hours.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, arching a brow. “But this is a respectable tailor’s shop. I hope you don’t plan to turn it into an opium den.”
“If I do, it’s no concern of yours,” she said briskly.
Reese took a swallow of brandy and shot her a knee-melting half smile. “I’m intrigued, Miss Kendall.”
“Rule number two,” she continued. “Absolutely no one may know about this arrangement,” she said soberly.
Reese rubbed the stubble on his chin. “My staff?”
Sophie’s neck prickled ominously. “Why would they need to know?”
“Because they’re bound to see you at Warshire Manor,” he said, as if it should have been painfully obvious.
“But I assumed we’d be meeting here in the shop,” she said, even as she realized he had other ideas.
He shrugged. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly, “there’s no bed here.”
She stood and paced in front of her chair. “You slept in the chair last Friday evening. Why can’t you do it again?”
“Because I need you to stay with me, and you wouldn’t be comfortable here.”
She blinked. “Reese, I am not going to share a bed with you.”
He arched a brow, amused. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”
“Good.” She spun on her heel to hide her mortification. The earl had already said he wasn’t trying to seduce her, and yet she’d rather recklessly injected the possibility into the conversation again. She’d assumed he had ulterior motives for wanting her to spend the night—but it seemed her worry was for naught. “However, I’m afraid that spending the night at Warshire Manor is out of the question.”
“But you were prepared to spend the night here. How is staying at my house any different? It’s only a short coach ride away—and far more comfortable. I’ve already had a guest bedchamber prepared for you.”
Needing some distance, Sophie walked to the far wall and plucked a half-crushed derby off the shelf. She spun the hat in her hands, stalling for time. What Reese said was logical. How could she explain that going to his house felt far too personal? There she would run the risk of learning more about who he truly was. And then she might begin to care about him—as more than a grumpy, sleep-deprived earl.
Setting the hat back on the shelf, she faced him and said, “You shouldn’t have presumed I would be willing to go home with you. I’d prefer to stay here, in territory that’s more neutral.”
“I’m not an adversary, Sophie. I want you to be comfortable. If you wish to spend the night here, then that’s what we’ll do. I just thought that you’d like to have your own room and that…” His voice trailed off as he stared into his glass and shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
She took a few steps closer to him, curious. “What?” she asked. “What’s not important?”
He pressed his lips together as if determined to remain silent, but she walked right up to his chair. Challenged him to look into her eyes.
He held her gaze for several seconds, casually set down his glass, and stood so that they were toe-to-toe. He was so close that she could see the gold flecks in his irises and the dark fringe of his lashes. “I was going to say that as long you were at Warshire Manor, I thought you might enjoy spending time in my garden.”
“The garden where you found the yellow rose?” she asked, keenly intrigued. She could still see the flower’s perfection in her mind’s eye. Could still feel its velvet petals against her cheek.
“The same one,” he confirmed. “But, as I mentioned, there’s not much else to look at. The head gardener took ill last year and hasn’t tended to it in several months. He’s slowly recovering and is intent on returning to his duties as soon as he can. He’s faithfully served my family for years, so I’m willing to wait, but in the meantime, the grounds look rather … bleak.”
Sophie swallowed. If there was one thing she found nigh irresistible, it was a gardening project—and the greater the challenge, the better. But she had to weigh that against the risks. “I will consider going to Warshire Manor next week,” she said. “Tonight we will stay here.”
“Fair enough.” Reese’s eyes crinkled at the corners and a half smile formed on his lips. “Is it time for bed yet?”
Chapter 7
Sophie cast an assessing gaze at Reese’s face. “You’re not in the right frame of mind for sleep,” she said.
That much was true. All his senses were on high alert around Sophie. His body thrummed with awareness of her—the sure, graceful way she moved, the unexpectedly sultry tone of her voice, and the defiant spark in her blue eyes.
Though he longed for sleep, he disliked the thought of wasting hours he could be spending in her company. “What would you like to do?” he asked. “We could play cards or go for a walk.”
She looked around the room, thoughtful. “Let’s move some furniture.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the leather chairs. “What’s wrong with the furniture?”
“Nothing. But I’ll need more seating in here for next Friday, arranged in a circle.”
Reese shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the counter. He didn’t really give a damn what they did—just having her close gave him comfort. Distracted him from his big problems.
“There’s a long bench in the back room. I can bring it out here,” he offered.
“Perfect,” she said. “There are a few stools behind the counter, too. Even ottomans will serve my purposes.”
Reese desperately wanted to know what she planned to do there but couldn’t risk asking without violating the rules she’d laid out only minutes before. So he rolled up his shirtsleeves and brought every seat he could find to the center of the shop’s front room, moving each one according to her directions. The only chair she didn’t want him to move was the one in the back room where he’d slept last week.