“The lady says, or I hope it is the lady who says, ‘As I gaze into the depths of my tea, I wish the murky depths would clear and give me a glimpse into my future. I feel as if I am staring at a pitchfork in the road.
‘On one arm is the life of a lady, demure, quiet and patient. On the other is the astronomer inside of me that dreams of the stars on the other side of the world. On the banks of the sea, I crave the feel of boarding a ship and sailing away to meet the stars… Oh dear, which way should I go?”
Cecilia swallowed. “May I have my book back, please?”
“In the margin, you wrote,you’ll embitter yourself if you do not try to fulfill your dreams. It is best to try and fail than not to try and wonder if your dreams could have worked out or not. That, Dante, is Purgatory.
“I am impressed, Little Mouse,” he turned another page. “Is this commentary, or is this you admitting your deepest desires on a page?”
His off-hand comment cut deeply to her as it was a secret she had barely admitted to herself.
Horror. Outrage. Embarrassment. So many different emotions had swirled so that all Cecilia wanted to do was flee as far and as fast as she could.
No one knew how deeply she felt emotions, as she was trained to suppress them and keep a docile expression.
He turned around and looked at her intensely. His gaze was so piercing that her muscles froze, and her breath caught in her throat.
Frustrated—and frantic to get the book back, she launched herself at him, reaching for the book, not caring one whit that she was atop him. His arm snatched around her waist and, unintentionally—or possibly knowing him—intentionally, pressed her closer to him.
“Why, Cecilia, I thought you were not interested in growing intimate.” His breath caressed her lips, and her skin grew warm in his scandalous proximity.
Gooseflesh rose on her skin, “I… I don’t…I didn’t mean to…” she stammered.
His presence seemed to make the air around her grow thicker, and her face flushed a crimson red. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you care to release me now?”
His eyes shamelessly lingered on her lips, and she didn’t miss the moment of hesitation that crossed him, as if he was battling something inside.
Then, he gave a boyish smirk at her reaction and slid his arm away. Cecilia felt a twist in her lower stomach, an intensity thatwas both thrilling and frightening. His gaze drifted lower, and she felt as though he was slowly undressing her with his eyes, sending her heart racing. Her arms instinctively rose to cover her bosom.
“The book, please?”
“One moment,” he qualified, while turning to the page with the first quote he had read out. “Who writes this part?To a heart formed for friendship and affection, the charms of solitude are very short-lived?”
“The man,” she answered, face burning as she knew he would read the next comment.
His eyes dropped to the scribble under it.
“If solitude’s appeal fades, I can only assume it’s because one has not yet met the Duke of Tressingham.”
Cassian threw his head back and laughed so long and hard, Cecilia contemplated stopping the carriage and walking the miles to wherever they were heading.
Anything to not feel this mortified!
“’Travelling is the ruin of all happiness! There's no looking at a building here after seeing Italy’.” Chuckling, Cassian added, “One could say the same about the women—”
Having heard enough, Cecilia leaned over and snatched the book back—but the carriage jolted over a pothole and she fell onto his lap once again.
“Second time in less than five minutes,” he noted. “And yet you tell me you don’t wish to be intimate.”
“Not with you,” she huffed, taking the book and her seat. “You have seduced everything female that moves, and bedded every lord’s wife, sister, and daughter, shamelessly ruining the reputations of dozens of women.”
Reaching for the paper again, Cassian tutted, “Reports of my activities, or the lack thereof, are pure hyperbole. I have seduced women, yes, but for every one that is true, five more spin tales.”
Her ears burned, “I’d rather you not regale me with your sordid tales.”
“For now, or not ever?” He asked nonchalantly.
“Ever,” she snapped while returning to her book. Her eyes flickered up, “Are we near your home yet? ThisHertfordshire?”
