Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(25)

“The Aspects of Progressivism,” she read aloud, and wrinkled her nose. “Revolution and Reform in Modern Europe. The Wonders of British Expansionism. Well, any one of these should do…”

A mocking voice came out of the shadows, startling her. “Back for the second round?”

Three

The pile of books dropped from Tasia's hands. She gasped, whirling toward the voice. “Oh…”

Lord Stokehurst stood up from the large chair near the fireplace. He had been sitting in the dark with a drink, staring into the empty grate. Casually he set a half-finished glass of brandy on a bronze table, and approached her.

Tasia's heart pounded hard in her chest. “Wh-why didn't you let me know you were here?”

“I just did.” Stokehurst had the appearance of a man who had spent all day at his desk. The turned-down collar of his shirt was smudged with ink, and the top buttons were undone, revealing a gleam of brown skin at the base of his throat. A few locks of black hair had fallen on his forehead, softening the hard angles of his face.

His deep blue eyes held an intimate curiosity that sent a shiver down Tasia's spine. Against her will she thought of what she had tried to put out of her mind all day…the moment during their argument when he had gripped the front of her dress in his fury. His aggressive maleness had terrified her. Along with her fear, however, had come a breathless feeling that hadn't left for a long time. She focused on the heap of books at her feet, hoping he wouldn't see the flush spreading on her face.

“You seem to have lost your composure,” he said.

“Anyone would, h-having a man leap out of the shadows like that.” Tasia swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. She owed him an apology. “My lord, Nan came to see me—”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he interrupted curtly.

“But I misjudged you—”

“No, you didn't.”

“I-I overstepped my bounds.”

Stokehurst didn't argue with that, only stared at her with a mocking lift of his brows. He made her very nervous, standing there…all darkness and devilish power spun into the shape of a man.

Tasia forced herself to go on. “It was kind of you to help Nan, my lord. She and the baby will be much better off this way.”

“Only if you consider a reluctant husband better than none. He doesn't want to marry her.”

“But you convinced him that it was the right thing to do.”

“That doesn't mean he won't make Nan pay for it in a hundred different ways.” He shrugged. “At least the child won't be born a bastard.”

Warily Tasia watched him through the screens of her lashes. “Sir…do you intend to dismiss me?”

“I considered it.” There was a deliberate silence before he continued. “But I've decided against it.”

“Then I'm to stay on?”

“For the meantime.”

Tasia was so relieved that her knees wobbled. “Thank you,” she whispered. She crouched to gather the pile of books, sitting lightly on her heels.

To her dismay, Stokehurst came to help. He bent and tucked a couple of the heavy volumes beneath his left arm. They reached for a book at the same time, their fingers brushing. Startled by the touch of his warm hand, Tasia jerked back so sharply that her balance was lost. She fell back in an awkward heap on the floor. She was as stunned as she was humiliated. She was never clumsy. Her face burned at Stokehurst's quiet laughter.

Rising to his feet, Stokehurst replaced the books on the shelf and reached down for her. He pulled her up effortlessly, his powerful grip engulfing her hand up to her wrist. Although his hold was gentle, there was a hint of alarming strength in it. How easy it would be for him to snap her bones like matchsticks. Tasia stepped back from him quickly, smoothing her skirts and yanking the waist of her bodice to settle everything in place.

“Which book did you want?” Stokehurst asked, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

Blindly Tasia pulled one from the shelf, not bothering to read the title. She held it flat against her chest, as if it would shield her from his mockery. “This one will do.”

“Very well. Goodnight, Miss Billings.”

Although she had been dismissed, Tasia didn't move. “Sir,” she said hesitantly, “if you have a moment, there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

“Another downtrodden housemaid?” he asked in jeering apprehension.

“No, my lord. It's about Emma. She…found out about Nan's situation. Naturally she has been asking questions. Sir, it occurred to me…Well, it reminded me…I asked Emma if anyone has ever talked to her about…You see, she's old enough to begin…She's of the age when girls…You understand.”

Stokehurst shook his head, his alert gaze trained on her.

Tasia cleared her throat. “I'm referring to the time each month when women…” She stopped again. In her embarrassment, she wished she could drop through the floor. She had never said anything so intimate to any man.

“I see.” His voice sounded strange. When Tasia risked another look at him, she saw a comical mixture of surprise and dismay on his face. “I hadn't thought about that,” he muttered. “She's still a little girl.”