“Hmm?” he said without looking in her direction, willing himself to appear as though nothing more than a studious reader absolutely riveted by… whatever words the letters on this page were meant to form.
As soon as Gladys returned her attention to her own novel, Reuben smoothed his lapels and ran a quick hand over his no doubt flyaway hair.
She lifted her gaze from her book again. He froze in place, hand on head, elbow jutting into the air.
Rather than glance toward him, she looked over at the clock in the corner.
Quickly, he arranged himself back into his nothing-to-see-here, just-a-man-enjoying-a-good-book pose.
Gladys closed her novel.
Reuben acted as though he hadn’t noticed.
She rose to her feet and tousled his freshly smoothed hair. “You can stop pretending now. I’m leaving.”
He glared up at her in consternation. In part because petting his hair felt so belittling, as though he were no more than a lap dog. Yet he longed for her to do it again. Wanted to feel her fingers gripping his hair and neck as he surged within her.
Unperturbed, Gladys strolled to the counter and returned her book.
“Thank you, Miss Smith,” said the proprietor. “With luck, the volume you’ve been waiting for will arrive next week.”
“I’ll be gone by then,” she replied with regret. “I’ll have to look for it when I return to London.”
She headed for the door.
Reuben gave up on feigning interest in his book and hurried to intercept her before she could disappear all over again.
“Have tea with me,” he said when he reached her side.
“Unfortunately, I’m busy,” she said with perfect politeness.
“But you would, if you weren’t busy?”
“No,” she replied with devastating frankness.
“Why not?”
“Tea sounds boring.” She gave a little shrug. “We’ve already done that.”
“All right, something new, then. Explore the labyrinth with me tomorrow. I’ll arrange that picnic and we can eat it in the folly in the middle.”
She gave him an arch look. “Won’t that upset your admirers?”
“I hope it upsets yours,” he muttered.
She heard him. “Why?”
He stared at her without speaking. Why? Because he didn’t want to share her. A ridiculous notion, since Reuben didn’t have her to begin with. But there it was. Possessiveness. He didn’t want her to move on to someone else before giving him a chance. The very thought made him crawl out of his skin with jealousy.
Truly, Reuben wouldn’t ask for much. He wasn’t angling for a lifetime, or even love. Just one night. A chance to show her a splendid time, and to get this absurd obsession out of his system.
He fell into step beside her. “Can I walk you to your room?”
“No.”
“You don’t want me to know where it is?” he guessed.
She lifted a shoulder. “That’s not where I’m headed.”
