How could one inexperienced spinster have him in such a roil? Had she somehow bewitched him with her enticing attributes? Shapely bosom, slender legs, graceful neck. Softest skin.
He was not liking the profound effect his Miss Temple of Virtue was having on him.
Why was she becoming so important to him? Could he see her in his future?
Standing in the hallway holding a tray of cocoa while his housekeeper assisted Ailis in making herself presentable was not the time to think more deeply about his life, about his bachelorhood, and the stark loneliness he would feel once Ailis was gone.
“Your Grace! I am not wearing those red stockings!” she called from the other side of the door, breaking his tension and making him laugh. “I shall put on my own when Martha brings them up.”
“You are awfully demanding for a little elf who has usurped my bedchamber. Are you decent yet? May I come in?”
His housekeeper opened the door and took the tray out of his hands. “Miss Temple is now at home to visitors,” Mrs. Fitch said with a mirthful air. She placed the tray on the small table and busied herself setting out their cups and pot.
Jonas approached Ailis, trying hard not to grin at the adorable sight of her.
She was securely tucked in the robe that was impossibly big for her. The sleeves alone fell to her knees. But the rich black of the wool seemed to bring out the lush gold of her hair, still unbound as it dried in the warm air.
She looked so pretty in that ill-fitting garment.
Perhaps it was the mix of impertinence and sensuality that he found irresistible about her. But these unexpected feelings were what had sent him out into the cold this morning. He could not run outside into the snow every time she heated his blood.
“Let me do up the sleeve, Miss Temple,” he said, struggling not to take her in his arms again.
“All right.” She studied him, her big green eyes wide as she watched him roll it up and then clip it in place. Her injured arm had remained in the sling, so the other sleeve remained empty and just flapped at her side.
“Did you manage to sleep at all after breakfast?” he asked, knowing he had to stop thinking of kissing Ailis again.
Kiss number four would have to wait. He needed to turn the heatdownbetween them, not stoke it.
“I tried to close my eyes and rest, but couldn’t. So I read instead.”
“More gossip rags?”
“Yes,” she said with a light laugh as they settled at the table. “These last ones had lots more to say about you.”
He frowned.
“It was all about that betting book on you, of course. But as part of the story, they dug up names of all the young ladies you had escorted in the past.”
“Anything to sell their bloody newspapers.” He sank into his chair and poured each of them a cup of cocoa. “I’m sure most of those ladies are married now.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, and some of them were already married when you ‘escorted’ them around London.”
“Are you chiding me, Temple?”
“No, Your Grace. I am keeping my opinion to myself because it is not really any of my business, is it? But it has not stopped your peers from placing bets on which of their husbands will be cuckolded now that you are back on the prowl.”
“I am not on the prowl,” he said in frustration. “I am not even in London. They must be low on news if I command so much attention in these latest scandal sheets.”
“You seem surprised. Unpleasantly so, I might add. Have you not read these already?”
“No, didn’t get around to these latest ones. Seems I had better catch up on them today. Not much else I can do while the snow has brought everything else to a halt.”
“They say you like brunettes.”
He arched an eyebrow as he handed over her cup of cocoa. “Is that so? What do you think, Mrs. Fitch? Does my taste run to brunettes?”
Mrs. Fitch had been fussing about the chamber, tidying up items that were already neat and did not need to be put in order. But Jonas expected she was too fidgety to sit still and pretend not to listen in on their conversation. “I am certain you favor blondes, Your Grace.”
