A Taste of Desire(46)
Then, in a flash, he was gone, his movements a blur. By the time she regained a portion of her bewildered senses, he was beside his desk looking the picture of equanimity.
Then she heard it again. The knock. The sound she’d thought was the frantic beating of her heart had been someone knocking on the door. Her face went up in flames. She sat down with an abruptness that knocked the next breath from her, laid her hands flat on the desk and willed them to stop their god-awful trembling.
Lord Armstrong issued the terse command to enter and made a show of sopping the coffee from his trousers with a clean handkerchief.
The door flew open. Sarah entered with her smile and sunny disposition. If Amelia had been inclined to grand shows of physical affection, she might have hugged her.
“Good morning, Thomas, I wondered if—” Sarah halted. Espying her brother, her eyes grew round and her mouth formed a perfect o. Then she giggled, a girlish sound that reminded Amelia of innocent mischief making. “What happened to your trousers?”
The viscount shot her a dark look and ceased his ineffectual wiping. “I’m glad I’m able to amuse you this morning. What do you want, brat?”
How different the word sounded when used in reference to his sister, exasperated but warmly affectionate. Certainly not the tone he’d used with her.
“I—well, I came to find out if I could assist Amelia again today.”
Amelia nearly groaned aloud. The innocence of youth also had its drawbacks. How she wished the girl knew when to keep her mouth shut. She half expected a bolt of lightning to zigzag down from the sky and impale her right where she sat. That was just the sort of day she was bound to have.
“What do you mean ‘again’?” the viscount asked in a deceptively soft voice. Though he addressed his sister, he affixed his regard on her.
Amelia swallowed hard.
Sarah’s gaze bounced between them several times before responding. “Um—I helped Amelia with some …” Her voice trailed off as a storm gathered in the viscount’s eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?” Sarah asked, after a moment of charged silence.
“No, you did nothing wrong. If anyone—” Amelia began.
“Amelia will not require your assistance any longer,” the viscount cut in smoothly.
Sarah shot a glance at Amelia as if she expected her to contradict her brother.
“Yes, Sarah, I shan’t be requiring your help again.”
Sarah sighed in the dramatic fashion of a girl who could turn even the most minor events into something fit for a fiction novel. “Fine, then I shall have to find something else to do today since Miss Jasper is sick in bed with a cold.” She turned back to her brother. “Oh, and mother says she hopes you don’t intend to keep Lady Amelia holed up in the study all day.”
Amelia choked back a bitter laugh. If only the viscountess knew the full of it. Lord Armstrong’s response was low and unintelligible.
Sarah issued them a cheery farewell and went on her way.
The viscount wasted no time after the door closed before stalking toward her desk. Standing, he had her at a disadvantage, and he knew it. But she’d be damned if she’d acknowledge it by bolting to her feet looking the least bit intimidated and defensive.
“If you ever use my sister again, I’ll paddle you so hard you won’t be able to sit for days. Now, you have two choices, you can either clean up the mess you made or you’ll be rubbing elbows with the scullery maids. Which is it to be?”
If he’d delivered the first smack of the threatened paddling, Amelia couldn’t have been more horrified.
“What, not the two choices you expected? What did you think, that I would kiss you again?” He searched her expression, and whatever he found there made him exclaim softly, “Lord, is that what this was all about? You wanted another kiss? Well, you’re going to have to work on your approach. There are much easier ways to get what you want, and dousing a man with coffee is definitely not one of them. However, since you’ve gone through all this trouble, it would behoove me to oblige you.”
Of all the things he’d ever accused her of, this was by far the worst. Not to mention it made her appear pitiable and utterly pathetic. With little but her pride to act in her defense, Amelia sprang to her feet in a rustle of skirts and marched over to his desk. She snatched up the rag from the bucket of soapy water and with as much dignity as one could manage in the given situation, began to lower herself to her knees.