When Sparks Fly by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

should he worry about her safety? It wasn’t as if she’d be going near the mine. And she was perfectly capable of staying out of his way if asked. It was ludicrous to think he might forego happiness for that.
    What made more sense was that he just didn’t want her badly enough to make the necessary adjustments in his life.
    She swallowed hard. Because she was plain. He might say he desired her, but plenty of men desired women without wanting them as wives. There’d been no females here in a long time, so Martin might just be randy. That didn’t mean he wanted to spend his life with her.
    Dashing away angry tears, she hurried after the boys and the footmen as they headed down another path through the woods. They’d been in search of the perfect Yule log for two hours now, discarding every stupid piece of wood she suggested. Why was the male sex always so fractious and determined to make a woman’s life miserable?
    Well, she’d had enough of them all. She wasn’t good enough for his lordship? Fine. She would be cordial and aloof with him from now on.
    But that night, as they finished dinner, she wasn’t so sure she could. Martin kept looking at her with an odd yearning that confused her even further. Did he want her or not? What other secrets lay behind that strange and enigmatic gaze to explain the real reason for his not wanting to marry?
    Was she just being fanciful? Or was he simply not interested in her because she wasn’t pretty enough to keep his interest?
    â€œSo when do we play snapdragon?” Percy asked once dessert was served.
    Martin muttered an oath. “I was hoping it had slipped your mind.”
    â€œNo chance of that,” she said dryly. Her cousins never forgot a promise, even one made under duress.
    â€œVery well,” Martin said. “I’ll go see to the arrangements.”
    â€œAnd I’ll take Meg up to bed. She’s too young for this.” She glanced over to where the girl was nodding off. “Besides, it’s late.”
    Picking her darling cousin up, she headed for the stairs.
    â€œYou’ll come back, though, won’t you, Ellie?” Tim asked.
    â€œYes,” Martin’s low voice joined in. “Do come back.”
    A little thrill darted through her at his words.
    But when she shot him a surprised glance, he added, “You can’t possibly expect me to handle these lads without help.”
    She stiffened, tempted to tell him he was on his own, but the silvery heat in his eyes kept her from saying it. “Give me a few minutes.”
    When she returned, everything had already been arranged. The shallow bowl of brandy held pride of place in the center of the dining table, laden with so many raisins that plucking them out wouldn’t prove much of a challenge, fire or no fire.
    Nonetheless, Martin was setting down rules as she approached. “No flinging raisins at other people. Huggett will keep count of how many each of you snatches, and you must abide by his count. Take off your coats, and roll up your sleeves. I don’t want anyone catching their cuffs on fire.”
    â€œWhat about me?” she asked. “My sleeves are too tight to roll up.”
    Alarm suffused his face. “You mean to play?”
    â€œEllie always plays,” Tim said matter-­of-­factly. “She almost beat everyone last time. It’s because she has little fingers. She can get in and out quicker.”
    â€œGod help us.” Martin cast her a resigned glance. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it.”
    â€œNot on your life,” she said, though his palpable concern softened her.
    â€œVery well.” He gestured to her sleeves. “Slide them up as far as you can.” He turned to the boys. “If you happen to ignite anything, put it out in one of the pails I placed at each corner of the table. But whatever you do, don’t throw water on the brandy. It merely scatters