"So you're a thief then?"
Mariah yelped at the sound of the voice behind her and promptly spilled the contents of the glass all over the front of her.
"Good heavens, you scared the life out of me," she said breathlessly swiping ineffectually at the front of her dress. "What are you doing sneaking up on people?"
Mariah waited for his answer as she rubbed at the now soaking material of her white muslin. When none was forthcoming, she glanced up and her heart simply stopped then galloped.
His blazing eyes were riveted to the front of her dress where the brandy had soaked through the material.
Mariah thought, for a horrified minute, that perhaps it was see-through but as she followed his gaze she saw that although there was a hint of skin, there certainly wasn't anything, well, improper on display.
She glanced back up and this time, her eyes locked with his. Good lord. He looked almost savage. Mariah suddenly thought of the pirate captain she'd once read about in a book she'd sworn up and down she hadn't read when questioned by Mama.
But she had read it. And she'd enjoyed it immensely.
And now, here Brandon Haverton stood, looking like the hero of her scandalous novel come to life.
His hair, though not long, was just as dark and silky in the dim light of the fire.
His eyes, black as coal but filled with fire as they bored into her.
He didn't wear a jacket and Mariah could see the muscular outline of his torso and stomach as her eyes raked over him greedily.
Suddenly, the brandy wasn't the only thing heating her anymore.
Mariah waited for him to speak but he uttered not a word. Just stared.
So then, she should speak.
Really she should leave. She had told herself that she wouldn't spend any more time with him. And here she was. Spending.
"If you'll excuse me," she mumbled and made to leave the room.
But as she passed, Haverton reached out and grabbed her upper arm.
"Wait," he said gruffly.
Mariah's skin fairly blistered with the heat from his touch.
This was not good. Not good at all.
She waited. And still he did not speak.
"Mr. Haverton, really I –"
"You've been hiding," he said abruptly. "Why?"
Mariah pulled her arm away and stepped back from him.
"I've been busy."
"Too busy to eat in the dining room?"
"How do you know where I've eaten? You haven't been in the dining room either," she countered.
"Yes, but I admit I've been hiding."
Oh.
"Why?" she asked, still refusing to admit to the same thing.
He sighed then and moved to decant himself a glass of brandy, pouring another for her without asking if she wanted one.
"I don't want another."
"You spilled the first."
"Yes, so I should change my gown."
"Oh, I'm not complaining, just replenishing your drink."
Mariah swallowed. He had the uncanny ability to render her totally speechless with just a few words.
He crossed back to her and handed her the glass, which she took without comment.
"Will you sit for a moment? I want to talk to you"
Mariah hesitated before complying. He rarely spoke so nicely to her, and her curiosity was piqued.
Besides, loath as she was to admit it even to herself, any chance she had to spend time with him was something for which she was grateful.
She waited for him to speak, but for a long while he just sat staring into the glowing embers of the fire. Eventually he began to talk, his gravelly voice playing havoc with her already fraying nerves.
"I must apologise for my behaviour at dinner the other night. I was unpardonably rude. And you don't deserve it."
Well, that was a good start.
"Thank you," she said. Then, because good manners dictated it, she continued, "I am sorry too. If you do not want to tell me things about your life then that is perfectly acceptable. I am only here to fix your library."
He frowned at her then, as if confused by her words.
"I almost forgot about that. How are you faring with it?"
"Oh, wonderfully. You have an outstanding collection here, Mr. Haverton. I do hope you will consider keeping it. You've gotten an absolute treasure in this place.
He smiled indulgently, which caused her breath to quicken.
"You are very passionate about books?"
Mariah nodded enthusiastically but stopped herself from launching into a speech on the wonders of books and his library.
She was far more interested in what he had to say.
Another silence. It was most aggravating.
"Tell me, Miss Bolton, do you think that someone less interested in books than you are, but who could desperately use a distraction of some kind, would like the collection in the library?"
Mariah frowned at the strange question.
"I suppose it would depend on what they were interested in reading, sir," she began, not sure what he was asking exactly. "But the collection is varied and interesting. There are even some terribly romantic gothic novels in there." She smiled, tying to lighten the suddenly maudlin mood.