Lord Atherton's Ward Read Online Free Page B

parentis. However, she would leave the door wide open just in case. She smiled at her wild imaginings; he was far more likely to ring her neck than wish to ravish her.
    She straightened her spine, pleased for once that she was unbecomingly tall. Being able to stare into his face and not into his stock would be a definite advantage. She was about to knock on the door and remembered that she was entering a room in her own house. He had got her so bamboozled she was behaving like the veriest nincompoop.
    Grasping the handle she pushed the door open with more force than she had intended and to her horror it slammed noisily against the wall causing Lord Atherton to tip his coffee down his immaculate buff unmentionables. Sarah’s instinct was to turn and flee but something, she wasn’t sure what, held her on the spot. She braced herself for the onslaught of his rage.
    To her astonishment he put down the cup and bowed formally. She curtsied, almost losing her balance her knees were shaking so. He didn’t attempt to take her hand to raise her for which she was grateful. If he’d touched her he would have known instantly that she was trembling.
    She faced him nervously; he was neither smiling nor scowling. ‘Shall we be seated my lord, or do you intend to berate me whilst I stand?’
    ‘Berate you? Why in the world should I wish to do so, I wonder?’ His voice was as dark as his complexion, but she thought she detected a flicker of an amusement in his eyes. Ignoring his opening gambit she busied herself finding a suitable chair and settling on it. This gave her valuable time to regain her composure.
    Raising her head she found, to her consternation, he was sitting astride a chair no more than an arm’s length from her, his head resting on his folded arms. So close she could smell an intriguing mix of leather and lemons. She felt herself colouring under his scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably on her seat. This would not do. She had not come down stairs to be treated like a naughty schoolgirl. She was a woman grown and he had no right… her thoughts faltered.
    ‘Well, Miss Ellison, where shall I begin?’
    Sarah presumed this was a rhetorical question so didn’t answer. She saw his eyes narrow in annoyance and knew she had made another blunder. ‘I think that I should begin, my lord, by apologising…’ Her words dried in her throat. Why was he staring at her in that particular way?
    ‘Yes? Pray, do continue. For what of the many misdemeanours you have committed, are you actually apologising?’
    He was toying with her, deliberately goading her and she didn’t like it one bit. She felt her temper rising and tried to push it down. Now was not the time for argument, but for reconciliation. She swallowed twice. ‘I wish to apologise for choosing to come to London and live in my own house, suitably chaperoned, and visit museums and listen to lectures rather than go and live with your family in Chelmsford.’
    This was not what she had intended to say, the words come out of their own volition and she saw his hands clench. He was no longer relaxed but tense. This was going to be a disaster, what could she do to smooth him down? Aunt Isabelle always said it helped to defuse an awkward situation if you change the subject.
    ‘My lord, should I pour you another cup of coffee, I believe you spilt….’
    His hands shot out he grasped her upper arms in a vice-like grip. For moment things hung in the balance, she thanked God that he had chosen to sit backwards on the chair. If he had been free to move she truly believed he would have lifted her from her seat and then…. what he would have done she had no idea. In all her life no one had ever offered her anything but affection and even when she had misbehaved she was never punished. As long as she apologised prettily the matter was immediately forgotten.
    ‘Release me this instant. You are hurting my arms.’ He opened his fingers and she scrambled to her feet. He moved the chair to