"But you shouldn't even be here, should you? You should be at the Manor doing your job."
All of a sudden, he sounded like the proud, arrogant man she'd met yesterday and Mariah was immediately on her guard. Memories of their kiss and her subsequent escape flooded her mind and her cheeks flamed in response.
"Yes, well. I had thought that perhaps you would no longer need me," she mumbled.
"Are you finished sorting the library?"
"Of course not."
"Then I need you."
Mariah told herself not to feel anything in reaction to his words. He meant them in terms of finishing the task, nothing else.
"I do not think it would be a good idea, Mr. Haverton."
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What if I promise to stay away from you?"
No! Her mind screamed.
"That won't be necessary," she muttered trying not to beg him to do the exact opposite.
"I'm afraid it will be," he answered, a wry smile hovering on his lips.
"Why?" she whispered, suddenly feeling a change in the atmosphere.
He stepped closer and Mariah felt a visceral tug of desire in her abdomen. And elsewhere, if she were being honest.
"Because you ran away yesterday due to my attentions. I don't want you to run away, but I can't guarantee that I can keep my hands off you. So I'll stay away."
Oh my. That was quite an answer. And although his words played havoc with her heart, she couldn't resist arguing the point.
"I ran away because you insulted me," she contended.
"I did not."
"Did too," she countered, not unlike a child.
"I did not," he bellowed, sounding infinitely more childish than she.
"You said I couldn't kiss properly," she shouted.
"God dammit. You are the most infuriating female I've ever met," he barked rather rudely, to Mariah's way of thinking. "I most certainly did not say you couldn't kiss properly. If you couldn't kiss properly, I wouldn't be standing here wanting nothing more than to kiss you again."
His words succeeded in ending any conversation and any ability Mariah had of forming a coherent thought. Excepting one. The thought that if she did not feel his lips pressed to hers again, she would surely perish from pure desire.
They stared at each other, his almost black eyes boring into hers.
This was madness. She barely knew the man, liked him even less. Yet her body was traitorous in its longing for him.
He stepped closer and it was all Mariah could do not to launch herself at him.
"This is madness," he said quietly, echoing her thoughts.
"I know," she agreed, surprised that she could even speak.
"And yet…"
He reached out, brushing her cheek with his knuckles and Mariah shuddered in response.
She was shocked by how much his simplest of touch affected her.
"Miss Bolton, I—"
Whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by a loud banging on the door.
Mariah started then stepped back from him.
"That'll be the army of the afflicted, will it?" he asked drolly and Mariah was both impressed and a little insulted that he sounded perfectly normal while she was going up in flames.
"It must be," she confirmed dully, knowing she was in for a morning of imagined illnesses and persistent complaining.
"You know," Haverton said, a smile playing about his mouth, "if you were to come back to the Manor you wouldn't have to deal with any of them. You could bury yourself in the books you are so fond of and not deal with a single person all day if you so choose."
Mariah couldn't deny that it sounded tempting.
Especially because she would be in close proximity to Brandon Haverton. Which was ridiculous, but true.
The loud, nasally sound of Mrs. Callahan's voice reached them in the drawing room and Mariah made an instantaneous decision.
"Fine, I'll come," she said in a fierce whisper, "but we'll have to sneak out the back way."
"You can't be serious," said Mr. Haverton incredulously but his words were muffled; he was speaking to her back as she left him behind.
They darted through the hallway and ran toward the back of the house. It was ridiculous, running around one's own house like a burglar but there was nothing else for it.
Either they would get caught by Mrs. Callahan, in which case Mariah would be stuck listening to her imaginary diseases all day, or they'd get caught by Lilly or Mama, in which case Mr. Haverton would be stuck trying to avoid the parson's trap all afternoon.
They reached the conservatory and slipped out into the garden beyond.
Mariah beamed at her co-conspirator, delighted with their success.
"My horse is in the stable," said Mr. Haverton, but he offered her an answering grin, which promptly stole her breath all over again.
"Not to worry," she said, almost giddy with relief and with being in his company, "we can sneak round to the stables now. I shall have to collect the gig in any case."
"Your house is rather larger than I expected," said Mr. Haverton as they walked around to the stables at the back, keeping a close eye out for perspective interrupters.
"It is?"