“How could you?” he retorted immediately. “I didn’t do anything improper. The relationship was as short-lived as it was chaste.”

“That one, perhaps. But what about Margaret, or Jane, or that woman from the inn in town—I don’t believe any of those flirtations were quite so chaste.”

A roar filled Anthony’s ears and sought to throttle his thoughts. It was a full moment before he could speak. “The next time I see my sister, I am going to kill her.”

“Don’t blame her. I’m sure she never thought I might use such information against you.” Miss Thraxton’s gaze fell on her hands, still neatly clasped in her lap. “But you are right—I do owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Greyley. It will not happen again.”

She looked sincere. So sincere that Anthony wasn’t sure how to respond. He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t bam me, Thraxton.”

“I would never apologize insincerely. I’d think you’d know that about me.”

Strangely, he did know that. She was irritating and a practiced scamp, but she hadn’t a malicious bone in her body. His gaze immediately flickered over that body and he noticed how tightly the coat fit over her breasts, curving around them in a most fascinating manner as if—

He caught himself before his thoughts could progress any further. Damn it, this wasn’t how he’d planned this conversation. He raked a hand through his hair. “Miss Thraxton, I believe we should begin again. We’ve gotten off to an unpleasant start—”

“Nonsense. I had a very good ride with the children. And you were right about the mare; she’s a sweet goer.” Enthusiasm warmed her voice until it was throaty, as sensual as her glorious hair. “Such a graceful animal.”

Anthony found himself looking at the slight sheen of perspiration that touched her neck where it rose above her collar. He remembered cupping his hands about that slender column, of feeling the hot beat of her pulse, of the taste of her on his lips.

His body tightened in response. God, but she was a delectable piece, even with that proud nose.

“It really was lovely,” Anna continued, her voice filtering through his jangled thoughts. “Smooth and long. Quite enjoyable.”

The words echoed dizzily in Anthony’s head. Smooth and long. Quite enjoyable. Bloody hell, what was she talking about? “Smooth?”

“The horse’s gait.” She frowned. “Are you well? You look ill.”

He was. He was burning with a fever to taste her again. He grabbed his wayward thoughts by the tail and tried to rein them in. “I’m fine. There was one other thing we needed to discuss. The children’s schedule—”

Thraxton stood. Or, more correctly, she popped out of her chair so quickly that Anthony was tempted to take a step back.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” she said, her chin level, a warm light silvering her gray eyes. “I’ll be certain to set up a schedule that will benefit the children.”

“They already have a schedule—”

“Does it include mathematics?”

What was she doing? “Naturally it includes mathematics. And reading and—”