Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

dark in here. But you must see how nerve-wrenching it is to be in a strange place and to be crept upon.”
    “Now you accuse me of creeping?” he questioned. “I have never been accused of creeping before. A moment ago you said I leapt.”
    Evangeline moaned inwardly. She was making no sense, not even to herself. He had her so disconcerted, so highly strung, that she feared she sounded like an imbecile.
    “You are a very odd young woman, Miss Rutledge. Everything seems to frighten you. You are poor, and yet you refuse an offer of marriage from a rich man.” He looked her up and down. “Very strange.”
    He threw himself in a chair at the head of the table, one long leg draped over the side. Evangeline eyed at him, appalled at his bad manners. He should have held out her chair first and then sat down properly. “Are you calmer now, Miss Rutledge?”
    “I’m not sure I am.” She stood looking pointedly at her chair, waiting for him to rise.
    Ignoring the remark he gestured at her chair, which stood directly to the right of his, quite close. Then seeming to understand that he was lacking in manners, he stood up and held it for her with a sigh.

    Sanguinarian 45
    “Sit!”
    Evangeline obeyed quietly, though his command was more that of a master to a dog than a gentleman to a young lady.
    “Do you like my castle?” he asked, sitting down again. The look on his narrow face was open and questioning.
    “It’s very nice, sir, yes,” she lied.
    “You hate it,” he said simply.
    “No, I assure you.”
    “Let me make something clear to you, my dear.” He placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward, his long, shining dark hair falling forward. Evangeline inched back in her chair to put distance between them. “You cannot lie to me because I know what you are thinking just by looking at you.”
    “How can you possibly know, sir?” she whispered. “Do you have special powers?”
    “I merely know.” He leaned back, impatient now, and rang the small bell on the table beside his plate. They sat in silence while the first course was served.
    “Red wine with a cream soup?” Evangeline questioned when she saw his glass. Her own held white.
    “I always drink red wine.” He took a long swallow, ignoring his soup which looked delicious. Despite the atmosphere Evangeline realized she was very hungry.
    The second course was fish which he also ignored while Evangeline took a small portion. Only when a large roast of beef was put on the table, the middle pink, oozing blood and very unappealing, did he begin to eat. “Have some beef, my dear, it is good for you,” he urged when she refused the bloody portion the footman cut for her.
    “No thank you, my lord, I do not like blood on my dinner plate.”
    “No?” He looked astonished. “I suppose you like your meat cooked until it is gray and leathery.”
    “That is how I prefer it, yes,” she admitted.
    “Cut Miss Rutledge a slice from the outside,” he ordered the 46
    Fyn Alexander
    footman, watching while a portion of well-cooked beef was served to her then liberally doused in gravy.
    “Gravy!” Raven grimaced then turned at once to his own plate and began to eat. He ate a large quantity very quickly, without speaking and without any obvious enjoyment. He appeared to have no real appetite, only need. When the meat was gone he pushed aside his plate and sat back. Evangeline ate the potatoes and vegetables served with the course and sipped her wine.
    The bloody mess left on his plate turned her stomach queasy.
    “Do you always dress like a schoolgirl, Miss Rutledge?”
    Unexpectedly Raven leaned forward, extending one long finger to touch the row of pearl buttons—tracing it down from her high neckline to her small bosom. She dropped her eyes to the finger, watching it. Her entire body went rigid and she was shocked to feel a current of sensation streak through her. If his behaviour in the carriage was anything to go by, then he did not understand the parameters of polite society. And exactly what had happened in the carriage? The incident ebbed and flowed from her memory like a dream.
    Evangeline sucked in a breath. “You are too forward, sir.”
    He laughed harshly. “Forgive me if I have shocked your girlish sensibilities, my child, but that gown has got to go.”
    “I’m sorry you don’t care for it, my lord, however, I’m afraid I have very little in the way of clothes. When we are married and I have my inheritance, I’ll buy some. My