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That was insulting. She'd lusted after Steve Young often enough in the past.
"Kendrick," she began patiently, "I know who the quarter-back is and what he does I'm not
completely football illiterate."
"So I see," he chuckled. "Then why don't you tell me about the defense."
She squirmed. "I'd rather listen to you tell me."
"I already know all about it."
"Which makes you the perfect one to discuss it."
He pursed his lips, but it seemed to be in an effort not to laugh. "You're stalling."
"And doing a fine job, if I do say so myself," she agreed.
Kendrick did laugh then. "All right, I'll explain it. But pay attention. The game is almost ready to begin
and I'll expect you to be able to point out the different positions. We'll work on plays during halftime."
"Whatever you say, my lord."
He dove into another detailed explanation of who did what, where they did it and to whom. Genevieve
knew she'd have to see it to believe it, but that was obviously his intention. He wound up his little speech
just before the kickoff.
Genevieve was torn between watching the game and watching Kendrick watch the game. He was by far
the more entertaining of the two choices.
Before she was aware of it, the game was finished and Kendrick's eyelids were drooping. He gave her a
sleepy smile.
"Would you be offended if I nodded off for a few moments?"
She shook her head. "I'll go."
"Nay," he said quickly, "stay. Please?"
How could she say no to that? She resumed her seat slowly. "I probably should keep an eye on you for a
while. You're very pale."
He nodded solemnly. "I need to be watched closely, 'round the clock if possible."
Genevieve couldn't stop the blush that stained her cheeks. Fortunately Kendrick seemed not to notice.
He closed his eyes and relaxed back in his chair. She couldn't hear him breathe but she saw that the rise
and fall of his chest soon became shallow and regular. He certainly knew how to sleep at the drop of a
hat.
Once she was sure he was sleeping deeply, she turned sideways in her chair to face him and allowed
herself the luxury of gaping. He was like no one she'd ever known before. Most of the men she had
known over the course of her lifetime had either been wimps, like her father, or tyrants. Though it wasn't
as if she'd had a great selection to choose from. When she'd finally gotten around to dating in college,
she'd given it up almost instantly. She'd spent so much of her life being bookish, dreamy Gen Buchanan
that she found she didn't have the skills or the inclination to deal with real men. It was much safer to stick
to the ones in her imagination. Not to say that she hadn't had male friends, but they had been few and far
between. And none of them had ever considered her anything but a sister.
Unlike Kendrick. If he considered her anything besides a pest, that anything was definitely not a sibling.
The look he had given her while taking in the full view of her pajamas still brought heat to her cheeks. She
knew the look. She'd seen men wear it in the movies and seen her few male friends give it to women they
were in hot pursuit of. But never had she seen a look of that kind come her way. Until today.
She didn't think she was beautiful; that was something she refused to let bother her. She was good at her
job and she was good at her dreams. Over the years, she'd convinced herself that was all she needed to
survive.
And then her dreams had become reality. She'd been swept from her everyday existence into a world
where nothing was the same. She had a castle, more beautiful than anything she had ever conjured up in
her imagination. And she had her knight. His gruffness had unnerved her at first, but she was beginning to
see that some of it was due to his understandable bitterness over his situation and some of it was just a
means of playing tough. Kendrick wasn't as hard-hearted as he would have had her believe.
She perused him in a leisurely manner. It was the first time she had ever been close to a man of his size
and physique. Odd how she wasn't in the least bit intimidated, by his proportions or his masculinity. She
immediately understood why. He was a ghost, a person just a bit more tangible than her imagination but
not substantial enough to be a threat. Yes, this was the kind of man she could deal with. He was arrogant
and impossible but he had a kind of teasing manner about him that was utterly charming. And he looked
at her as if he actually found her appealing. Desirable was pushing things, but appealing she could believe.
She saw Kendrick's hand lying on the armrest, just an inch or two from her chair, and found herself
suddenly overcome by an utterly ridiculous idea. Would he feel it if she touched him? Would she feel
him?
Hesitantly, she put her hand over his. A tingle, like a hint of static electricity, touched her. Her hand went
through his to rest on the chair. She looked down, speechless. Kendrick's hand surrounded hers, like an
aura. Real, but not real. What if it had been? She leaned her head against the back of the chair and
closed her eyes, giving her imagination free rein. The century didn't matter, she had Kendrick and that
was the only thing important to her.
Perhaps the thirteenth century. She would have been the lady of Seakirk, orphaned, besieged from all
sides by vile suitors who wanted nothing but her land, not caring a fig for her personally. At the moment
of greatest jeopardy, Kendrick would have ridden up on his black warhorse and scattered the scoundrels
with a few well-dealt blows of his great broadsword. Genevieve saw herself standing on the front steps in
the gown Kendrick had shown her in the garden a few days earlier, waiting patiently for him to come to
her. He would have ridden up and remained mounted, looking down at her with that heartbreaker grin of
his and said something like, "Now that the pond scum has been swept away, my lady, perhaps you'd
care for a swim?"
No, Kendrick wouldn't say something like that. He probably would have ridden up, held down his hand
toward her and frowned. Then he would have said gruffly, "Come up here, wench. That light exercise
before supper has left me too weak to walk to the chapel to wed you. We'll have to ride." Then he would [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]