She was still standing there several moments later when Ian walked in to invite her to ride with him. "Still trying to find your answer, sweetheart?" he asked with a sympathetic grin, mistaking the cause of her wary stare.
"No, I found mine," she said, her voice unintentionally accusing as she thrust both pieces of paper toward him. "What I would like to know," she continued, unable to tear her gaze from him, "is how it happens to be the same answer you arrived at in a matter of moments."
His grin faded, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the papers in her outthrust hand. His expression carefully impassive, he said, "That answer is a little more difficult than the one I wrote down for you-"
"You can do this-calculate all those figures in your "
He nodded curtly, and when Elizabeth continued to stare at him warily, as if he was a being of unknown origin, his face hardened. In a clipped, cool voice he said, "I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me as if I'm a freak."
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open at his tone and his words. "I'm not."
"Yes," he said implacably. "You are. Which is why I haven't told you before this."
Embarrassed regret surged through her at the understandable conclusion he'd drawn from her reaction. Recovering her composure, she started around the desk toward him. "What you saw on my face was wonder and awe, no matter how it must have seemed."
"The last thing I want from you is 'awe,'" he said tightly, and Elizabeth belatedly realized that, while he didn't care what anyone else thought of him, reaction to all this was obviously terribly important to him. Rapidly concluding that he'd evidently had some experience with other people's reaction to what must surely be a form of genius-and which struck them as "freakish"-she bit her lip, trying to decide what to say. When nothing came to mind, she simply let love guide her and reacted without artifice. Leaning back against the desk, she sent him an amused, sidelong smile and said, "I gather you can calculate almost as rapidly as you can read?"
His response was short and chilly. "Not quite."
"I see," she continued lightly. "I would guess there are close to ten thousand books in your library here. Have you read them all?"
"No."
She nodded thoughtfully, but her eyes danced with admiring laughter as she continued, "Well, you've been quite busy the past few weeks-dancing attendance on me. No doubt that's kept you from finishing the last thousand or two." His face softened as she asked merrily, "Are you to read them all?"
With relief, she saw the answering smile tugging at his lips. "I thought I'd attend to that next week," he replied with sham gravity.
"A worthy endeavor," she agreed. "I hope you won't start without me. I'd like to watch."
Ian's shout of laughter was cut short as he snatched her into his arms and buried his face in her fragrant hair, his hands clenching her to him as if he could absorb her sweetness into himself.
"Do you have any other extraordinary skills I ought to know about, my lord?" she whispered, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.
The laugher in his voice was replaced by tender solemnity. "I'm rather good," he whispered, "at loving you.
"No, I found mine," she said, her voice unintentionally accusing as she thrust both pieces of paper toward him. "What I would like to know," she continued, unable to tear her gaze from him, "is how it happens to be the same answer you arrived at in a matter of moments."
His grin faded, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the papers in her outthrust hand. His expression carefully impassive, he said, "That answer is a little more difficult than the one I wrote down for you-"
"You can do this-calculate all those figures in your "
He nodded curtly, and when Elizabeth continued to stare at him warily, as if he was a being of unknown origin, his face hardened. In a clipped, cool voice he said, "I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me as if I'm a freak."
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open at his tone and his words. "I'm not."
"Yes," he said implacably. "You are. Which is why I haven't told you before this."
Embarrassed regret surged through her at the understandable conclusion he'd drawn from her reaction. Recovering her composure, she started around the desk toward him. "What you saw on my face was wonder and awe, no matter how it must have seemed."
"The last thing I want from you is 'awe,'" he said tightly, and Elizabeth belatedly realized that, while he didn't care what anyone else thought of him, reaction to all this was obviously terribly important to him. Rapidly concluding that he'd evidently had some experience with other people's reaction to what must surely be a form of genius-and which struck them as "freakish"-she bit her lip, trying to decide what to say. When nothing came to mind, she simply let love guide her and reacted without artifice. Leaning back against the desk, she sent him an amused, sidelong smile and said, "I gather you can calculate almost as rapidly as you can read?"
His response was short and chilly. "Not quite."
"I see," she continued lightly. "I would guess there are close to ten thousand books in your library here. Have you read them all?"
"No."
She nodded thoughtfully, but her eyes danced with admiring laughter as she continued, "Well, you've been quite busy the past few weeks-dancing attendance on me. No doubt that's kept you from finishing the last thousand or two." His face softened as she asked merrily, "Are you to read them all?"
With relief, she saw the answering smile tugging at his lips. "I thought I'd attend to that next week," he replied with sham gravity.
"A worthy endeavor," she agreed. "I hope you won't start without me. I'd like to watch."
Ian's shout of laughter was cut short as he snatched her into his arms and buried his face in her fragrant hair, his hands clenching her to him as if he could absorb her sweetness into himself.
"Do you have any other extraordinary skills I ought to know about, my lord?" she whispered, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.
The laugher in his voice was replaced by tender solemnity. "I'm rather good," he whispered, "at loving you.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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