He frowned his impatience with the idea. ‘That was not meant as an insult, Bea. Truth is, I have enjoyed the contented silence of your company these past few days,’ he acknowledged grudgingly, never having believed he would ever say that to any woman.
Her face brightened. ‘You have?’
Griffin once again acknowledged the danger of being alone with Bea in her bedchamber. Yet another habit he would have to break, if he was to continue behaving the gentleman.
Except his thoughts at this moment were far from gentlemanly!
He had enjoyed her company at the same time as he had been aware of everything about her. Bea’s skin was so soft and creamy, her figure so womanly, her manner towards him so warm, and he had been too long without the warmth of any woman.
The logical part of his brain knew not to extend this dangerous situation any longer and that he should leave the bedchamber forthwith; while the part of his brain ruled completely by his desire told him to take what was in front of him, and to hell with the consequences!
Would Bea accept or reject him if he were to take her in his arms and kiss her again?
Would she accept him out of gratitude, for all that he had done and was still doing for her?
Griffin did not want any woman to accept his kisses out of gratitude.
Bea frowned at Griffin’s continued silence. She believed that before her abduction she must have been a tactile person, a woman who liked to touch and be touched in return.
Because at this moment she wished for nothing more than to reach out and touch Griffin, to feel his arms close about her, to be crushed against the hardness of his chest and thighs, to lose herself in his strength and power, to feel wanted.
Was she imagining the hunger she saw burning in the depths of eyes? Was it possible he felt the same need for touch, for warmth, that she now did?
His wife had died six years ago but B
ea did not deceive herself into believing a man as handsome as Griffin would not have occupied many women’s beds in the years since.
Dared she hope, dream, that he now wished to occupy her bed, and it was only his sense of honour that was holding him back from doing so?
She moistened her slightly parted lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Griffin...’
‘I have some estate work I need to complete this evening.’ Griffin’s expression was unreadable before he turned on his heel and walked to the closed door, his back towards her as he spoke again. ‘I will instruct Pelham to bring you up a light supper tray. You did not eat nearly enough at dinner.’
‘But, Griffin—’
‘I wish you a good night, Bea,’ he added firmly before opening the door and then closing it softly behind him as he left.
Bea felt the chill of disappointment at the abruptness of Griffin’s departure. It was intolerable when she wanted, needed, ached to be close to him.
If Jacob Harker or his accomplice had violated her during her imprisonment then Bea had no memory of it—thank heavens. She shuddered. What she did know, with all certainty, was that her body had become attuned to Griffin’s every move these past few days. Her breasts swelled beneath her gown as she sat in the study with him, and a fire burned between her thighs whenever she watched him walk across the room, his movements unknowingly sensuous and graceful. She ached low in her belly whenever she imagined his large hands upon her own body, caressing, cupping, stroking.
She was sure she would have had these feeling towards Griffin no matter what the circumstances under which they had met.
Was she a wanton, to have such yearnings?
Could the warm feelings she now felt towards Griffin be so very wrong?
Her life was already in such turmoil, did she really want to add to that confusion by complicating things even further?
The answer to that question was yes!
It had become sheer torture for her to be so much in Griffin’s company these past few days, and at the same time so aware of the barrier of formality he had erected between the two of them. To be aware of his deliberately avuncular attitude towards her.
A deliberation that had not been present in those glittering eyes just minutes ago when Griffin had looked at her so hungrily.
Were her own feelings, her emotions, sure enough at present for her to know exactly what she would be doing if she were to meet the fire she believed she had seen in his gaze?
A mouse, he had called her, when in truth the only reason for Bea’s quiet these past few days had been in the hopes of making her presence here more tolerable for him, to make herself less visible, so that she appeared less of a burden to him.