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“Oh,” he muttered, distracted. He reddened and redid them. “I suppose it’s pointless to ask, but will you have some breakfast?”
I shook my head.
“Please have something to eat. You’ll feel better,” he coaxed.
“Okay, a crumpet,” I said dully to placate him, and he set about making some tea.
“How would you like to go to France for a few days?” he asked, and I sensed he was watching me super carefully.
What?
“You know I have a house there. In the southwest. It has a pool. We could go tomorrow, as we probably won’t get flights today.”
I gawped at him.
France on a whim?
“Why?” I whispered.
“I think the change of scenery will do you good.” He was trying for sincerity, but I knew he was hiding something.
“That’s not the only reason,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You think I have an ulterior motive?”
“I do.”
He looked amused. “Enlighten me. What do you think my motive might be?”
“I don’t know, but I can see it in your face. You’re hiding something.”
“You are perceptive. I’m not used to that around here,” he muttered.
I smirked. Lulu was not good at insight. This made me smile, but I bit my lip to quash it. Be polite.
“So, are you going to tell me?” I asked.
“No.”
I frowned. “I’ll think the worst.”
“Here’s a crumpet with honey. Eat it. And once you’ve eaten it, maybe I’ll tell you.”
I made a face but took a big bite. It tasted heavenly.
He put a mug of tea down beside me and sat down opposite me with his own mug.
“So, France. What do you think?” he asked.
I shrugged. Tristan had said he wouldn’t be around. I could unpack the crates today. Find my keys and my jar of money and have them ready. I could plan how I was going to leave. Find out bus times from Victoria to Canterbury. I finished my crumpet.
“’Fess up,” I challenged.
He sighed. “I think you’re going to bolt for Kent. I think once you’ve made up your mind about something, you go with it. I just want to put the English Channel between you and your old home and give you a chance to calm down and see reason.” His gaze was intense, his blue eyes cool.
Bloody hell! Talk about perceptive.
“And if you do run back to your old home, I’ll come and get you—you know that, don’t you?—and I’ll drag you back here. By your flaming-red hair if I need to.” There was not a trace of humor on his face.