His senses sharpened in an instant, keen as a knife’s blade. Idiot. You blind, bloody fool. He knew Mae was capable of playing deep. And he’d played right into her hands. Careful. He swallowed a surge of anger. He had no call to be angry in any case. He was the one who had started this—and he had known what he was getting into. Plenty of women could identify what they wanted, but no one else threw themselves into achieving it with even a fraction of her passion and abandon. He admired that about her. He only found it disconcerting to be at the centre of it. ‘Mae.’ He hesitated. ‘You know how fondly I think of you. I don’t believe I’ve ever admired a woman’s tenacity and intelligence as I do yours, but all of my energy is focused on Fincote Park right now. It’s no time for me to be thinking of anything—’ Mae’s laughter pealed out across the glade. ‘Oh, to have a mirror right now, so that you could see your face,’ she said. She’d flushed red, but her eyes twinkled with mischief.
