Her mouth formed a perfect O of astonishment. “Harry Arch—”
“Do you dare to risk it?” he interrupted, pleased with himself for shocking her. Boadicea was not easily surprised.
She pressed her lips together. “No. Be gone with you. But be forewarned that I may have shared your full name with Lady Alexandra.”
He ground his teeth as he left the library to the sound of his sister-in-law’s laughter. If Danvers invoked his hated full name, he had a different sort of punishment in mind for her. And it would be far more pleasurable than relieving himself in his sister-in-law’s living Christmas decorations.
The north towerof Boswell House was like an enchanted world. Alexandra could not have been more pleased that Boadicea had shown her this room, so far away from the main house and all its occupants. It was the proper height for meteorological observance. But even with its fresh new paint, sumptuous carpets, and comfortable furniture—not to mention the sunlight that filtered in the windows—to delight, studying the weather was not her primary pursuit.
Instead, she was sitting, legs tucked beneath her, draped on a particularly comfortable divan, flipping through the pages of a book that was riveting, shocking, and intriguing all at once. Boadicea had given her the thin, leather-bound volume, requiring her complete discretion.
It was an illegal book, filled with naughtiness. With lewdness and lasciviousness.
Naturally, Alexandra had given her promise to keep the book’s existence to herself.
She was curious, after all. Horridly, thoroughly curious.
Lord Harry had awakened a wickedness inside her that had been slumbering but was now decidedly awake. The wickedness was restless. It wanted more. The pages she’d turned thus far had certainly aided in that mission.
Naughty grooms.
Wicked maids.
Tongues that performed improper feats upon unmentionable places.
Her cheeks were hot, the flesh between her thighs tingling with anticipation as she turned each page. And she could not stop reading. She forgot about her intentions to measure the temperature and sky for her map. She forgot about everything and everyone in these stolen, quiet moments to herself. Everyone but Lord Harry, that was.
For he never seemed to stray far from her thoughts.
“What are you reading?”
Alexandra yelped, the forbidden book she’d been devouring nearly leaping from her hands in her discomfit. She turned to the source of that delicious voice to find that Lord Harry had appeared as if conjured from her fantasies.
Except he was more sinfully handsome than her woeful imagination could recall. Though he had not strayed far from her side for the last sennight, each time she saw him, her body gave an instinctive, inward sigh of appreciation.
He stole her breath. Her gaze traveled hungrily over his golden hair, high forehead, the blade of his nose, high cheekbones, that firm, rugged jaw. He was tall and broad and muscled.
And he was staring at her in an intent, expectant fashion.
Belatedly, she forced herself to stop ogling him and respond to his query. “Something quite edifying.” She snapped the book shut and stuffed it beneath her skirt. “What are you doing here, Lord Harry?”
“Edifying,” he repeated, sauntering toward her as though the two of them alone in a far-off tower was the most natural and inevitable thing in the world. “What is the subject?”
Alexandra watched helplessly as he skirted the divan and settled himself next to her, his strong horseman’s thighs splaying wide enough to touch hers. She swallowed, took a breath, and dismissed any inconvenient thoughts or emotions that would have impeded her ability to behave.
Or so she thought. The leather cover of the book, trapped between her skirt-clad thigh and the cushion, seemed to burn her fingers.
She blinked, focused on Lord Harry. “The subjects are varied. It is a collection of short stories.”
“What manner of stories?”
Alexandra forced herself to frown at him, ignoring his question. “Surely you must realize better than anyone that your presence here, with me, is unacceptable. We have already created the scandal of the year together, and I shudder to think what will happen if you are found alone with me.”
A lone, golden brow raised. “You do realize, do you not Danvers, that the year is nearly over? As such, we can create as much scandal as possible, given that it will cancel itself out upon the new year. Further, no one will find us here together. We are well beyond the reach of other guests. Indeed, we could safely remain here for the next day and no one would be the wiser.”
His words warmed parts of her she had not previously known existed. “Your logic is regrettably unsound, Lord Harry. The end of one year and the beginning of another has no bearing upon a scandal. A mark upon one’s character cannot be removed by the mere changing of a number.”
His expression sobered, his eyes intense as they bored into hers. “You are right, my lady. It cannot. But it can be ameliorated by actions taken to rectify the mistake.”
