Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 18

Anne spoke up with a gentle voice. "Six inches to your right." She then sipped her wine and felt a fleeting sense of victory when he found his spoon. He ran a cautious thumb over its rounded edge and then grinned in her direction.

"May not be the best utensil, a spoon, but it's easier to work with than a fork." Cedric's casual remark made Anne choke on her wine.

"Beg pardon?"

"With a fork I spend half my meals trying to find the food and the rest trying to get it into my mouth. Spoons are easier to use. I prefer forks only when I'm eating something that requires it to be held in place for cutting."

Anne pictured Cedric trying to eat and finding each meal a source of constant frustration. It did not escape her notice now that he looked thinner, paler than he used to. Perhaps he wasn't getting enough food to eat because of how much trouble it was, or perhaps his melancholy spoiled his appetite.

What a tragedy it was that he lost the bloom of his manhood to the slow wasting away of his condition. Blindness alone was not his enemy, it was losing the little pleasures of one's life because they were now impossible to do.

It was no wonder he had jumped on her offer of marriage. He needed something, or someone, to focus on. Someone to break the despairing monotony of his current existence. Rather than feel good that she was offering him such a reprieve, Anne could not help but wonder if he was merely using her the way he would have used any woman who asked him to marry her. Emily might be wrong about Cedric still wanting her-she was such a romantic, after all.

Last year he'd been intent on seduction. The passion was there, the fire of his longing for her, even if only physical, and she'd been terrified of how she'd respond. But now his kisses, while just as hot, were tinged with desperation and it upset her. As selfish as it was, she wanted him to kiss her because he wanted to kiss her, not because he had to feed his rakish need for contact with a woman's body.

"I am sorry if my conversation is not to your liking," Cedric said.

"What?" Anne hadn't been listening and couldn't remember what he'd been speaking about. Cedric's head was turned in her direction, but his brown eyes were distant as always, and his usually sensual mouth was tightened into a grim line.

"Ah, I've lost the ability to entertain a beautiful woman, it seems. I regret that I am not the man I once was. We could be having a very different evening together." The ghost of his old smile flitted over his lips, as though he was reliving some of his more wicked moments with other ladies.

"I am not beautiful, my lord, but your compliment is kind. I am enjoying our evening now. Please do not think I find your ability to entertain as lacking in any way." Anne picked up her fork and began to slice the breast of her pheasant.

"You think you are not beautiful? Perhaps I'm not the only one who is blind in this room. To me you are a diamond." Cedric's tone had lost its gruff defensiveness and became silky.

Anne narrowed her eyes at him. Was he making fun of her? To compare her to a cold, sharp stone? Or was he trying to say she was costly? Neither of these comparisons was even remotely appealing.