Page 20 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

Leo narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you being nice?”

“I am nice,” she said, aggrieved.

“No,” he shook his head. “You are only sweet and docile on the surface, underneath you are temperamental, demanding, and full of fire.”

“I am not!” she said indignantly.

He only returned a smug smile.

“Fine!” she snapped. Odious man. She would simply have to free herself. Vi tried to stand, only to sit heavily down again. Avoiding Leo’s eye, for she did not doubt he was smirking at her expense, she tried again, throwing her weight forward to keep herself upright. Sadly, she overdid it. The quilted fabric bunched about her feet, and she stumbled forwards, crashing into Leo. He staggered but caught her and might have righted them both if he’d grasped the bedpost and not the curtain beside it. As it was, there was the curtain broke free of its hooks, and they both fell in a heap on the floor. Leo landed heavily, cursing as they went. Padded on all sides as she was, Vi took no harm and simply unravelled, rolling off Leo as the counterpane released her. She lay beside him, gasping.

“Well,” she said. “That will teach you.”

The situation struck her then as being the most ridiculous she had ever encountered, and she laughed.

“Have you been drinking?” Leo’s terse voice muttered from the floor beside her. He sat up, rubbing his right elbow, which must have struck the floor first.

“N-Not enough,” Vi remarked, and dissolved. She laughed heartily, sitting up with an effort, and then her laughter died as Leo turned and their eyes met. The counterpane had released her, and her nightgown had ridden up, exposing her legs. Leo’s face hardened, and he looked away.

“Cover yourself up,” he said coldly, and got to his feet, stalking away to the bottle of wine and pouring himself a drink.

Vi swallowed, any urge to laugh vanishing. Though she told herself not to be such an imbecile, tears pricked at her eyes all the same. She had never understood why Leo had wanted to marry her, having few illusions about her charms. Yes, she was well enough, but already past her best and her looks had faded. What benefit he would gain from marrying her when he could have any beautiful young woman he wanted, she could not fathom. They weren’t even proper friends, not really, not when she vexed him so often. They had been once though, when they were children, and she could only believe it was some strange sense of nostalgia that made him persist in believing they could be happy together. Perhaps he was just being kind, for Leo was kind. Erratic, too, but terribly generous if he discovered someone needed something… anything. Yet any faint hopes she’d harboured that he really wanted her, desired her in the same way he had desired his lovely mistress shrivelled and died in the light of that indifferent look, those cold words. She felt a fool for believing she could tempt him into bedding her.

The ungainly struggle to get to her feet as she found the counterpane had not entirely given up the fight did not help her composure. Finally upright, she clutched it tightly around her and went to sit on the bed, keeping her back to Leo.

“We’d best eat before it gets cold,” Leo said, and she heard him moving to the table but did not dare look in his direction. It was ridiculous to get herself in such a silly state, she told herself severely. The idea of crying in front of him was mortifying, but she didn’t seem able to stop. Fighting to steady her voice, she replied, trying her best to sound cheerful.

“Y-You start. I’m not terribly hungry,” she managed, though her voice wobbled a little.

“Vi?”

Vi didn’t answer, praying he would just leave her be and get on with his dinner.

Naturally, the wretched man had to decide at that moment to pay attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said brightly. “Quite all right. Do eat before it g-gets—” Vi cursed as her voice quavered, and she closed her mouth on a sob.

“Vi! Love, what’s wrong?” Leo rushed over, crouching before her and taking her hands. “You’re crying!” he said, shock and accusation in his voice, as though she were doing it on purpose.

“I’m not,” Vi retorted crossly, which was an obvious and pointless lie as tears streamed down her face, but she was not feeling entirely rational.

“Then your face is leaking,” he said, deadpan, making her give an unladylike squawk of unwilling laughter. He returned an anxious smile and shoved a large and mercifully clean handkerchief at her. She took it, wiping her eyes and giving her nose a good blow, which was likely the least seductive thing she could have done, but she supposed that hardly mattered now.

“I’m all right,” she said thickly, trying to smile at him. Apparently, the effort was a poor one, for he looked more worried than ever.

Getting up, he sat on the bed beside her. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

“Not in the least,” she said impatiently, wishing he would go and eat his dinner and give her a moment to compose herself.

It was too humiliating for words, sobbing in front of him because he didn’t want her. Of all the embarrassing situations to get herself into, this had to be the worst imaginable. At least before she’d had her pride.

“Then why—”

“Oh, just leave it be, Leo,” she cried, pushing to her feet. She crossed to the fireplace and stared down into the empty grate.

“How can I?” he demanded, following her. “One moment you’re laughing and looking like… well, never mind what, and then this! I know I’m only a man, so incapable of understanding the workings of the female mind, but give me a clue, love.”

“Looking like what?” Vi asked suspiciously.

“What?”

“You said, laughing and looking like—looking like what?” Vi repeated, narrowing her eyes at him.

Leo swallowed. “Never mind.”

“Like a frightful old maid?” she suggested tartly. “Did you come to your senses, Leo, and realise you ought never to have been so foolish as to show an interest in me?”

Leo’s mouth fell open, and he made a strangled sound of pure outrage so Vi swallowed the rest of the accusation she had ready to throw at him. There was a look of such fury in his eyes that she feared what he might say or do next. Indeed, he looked really—

Before Vi could think of how he looked, other than quite unhinged, he grabbed her roughly, hauled her into his arms, and kissed her.