That was logic, she supposed. It was indeed his library. However, it was simply not done to have art of this nature on display. Goodness, what must his servants think? Or any of his guests, for that matter?
“This is what you enjoy gazing at when you are in search of a book?” She took a sip of her wine, thinking it may relieve the sharp edge of nervousness which had been haunting her from the moment she had been handed up into his carriage earlier. “What must your visitors suppose when they see what you have chosen to grace your walls?”
He gave her an indolent shrug—a gesture she was coming to recognize as his signature. “Who gives a damn what they think? I did not ask to hang it ontheirwalls, now did I?”
What an odd manner of thinking about things he possessed.
It was eerily refreshing. But subversive, also. Many of the men and women in her social circle flouted convention in one way or another, it was true. But none of them—not the most daring of the lot—would proudly display the sorts of pictures Mr. Elijah Decker had upon his library walls.
“Your female acquaintances,” she found the courage to press, “they do not object to the depictions?”
His gaze was inscrutable as it tangled with hers. He was still near enough in proximity that he could devastate her ability to resist him, and she knew it. She treaded on dangerous ground indeed.
“I do not bring female acquaintances here,” he admitted in a low rasp, before taking a long sip of his wine.
She was briefly fascinated by his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. Then by his tongue, licking a droplet of claret from his lips.
“You broughtmehere,” she could not resist saying.
“As promised, I am aiding you with accomplishing each item upon your list.” He took another sip of wine, watching her.
Fire seemed to lick her, from the inside out. She liked his predatory stare upon her, heaven help her. She liked being here, alone with him. It filled her with a wild rush, with a vast sense of possibility. In this moment, suspended from her ordinary life, she was not Lady Jo Danvers, expected to make a proper match and not embarrass her family by causing a scandal. In this moment, she could be as wicked as she wished.
“Thank you,” she said at last, when she could not fathom what else was expected of her.
He shook his head, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. “Too easy,bijou.”
Jo did not bother to protest the use of the diminutive he had bestowed upon her. “What do you mean, too easy?”
“I told you to thank me later, but I did not say how,” he elaborated, his gaze sweeping over her. “The uttering of two simple words will not be sufficient, I fear.”
Oh.
Surely he did not mean to cross off one of the other items on her list this evening?
A flush crept back to her cheeks. And why did the idea fill her with an incipient yearning instead of the trepidation she ought to feel?
She drank her wine, swallowing hard. “Whatwillbe sufficient, Mr. Decker?”
The ghost of a smile returned once more. “I shall let you know when the time comes, my dear.”
She could not shake the notion that this was all a game to him, and that he was toying with her. Enjoying it. But why? What could she possibly have to offer a man of his reputation and experience?
She gritted her teeth. “I do not want to wait. I want to know now. What is the debt I owe you?”
“What did I tell you about patience earlier in the carriage?” He drained the rest of his wine before sauntering to a sideboard and refreshing his glass.
“That it is an under-appreciated virtue.” She raised a brow. “I would argue otherwise.”
“Because you like to argue.” He treated her to a full, roguish grin now. “I do not mind. Your hidden fire amuses me. I must admit, before I discovered your list, I supposed you a boring, cold little fish.”
Jo told herself his words ought not to hurt her. However, those barbs—intended or not—nevertheless found their mark. She was two different versions of herself. With her family and closest friends, she was garrulous and witty. But when she ventured amongst others, she was cool and quiet and shy. A wallflower, forever on the periphery.
“I am shy until I truly come to know someone,” she said, unable to strip the defensiveness from her tone.
It was an old wound.
“I have begun to see there is far more hiding beneath your façade.” His voice hummed with frank approval. “Tell me, what spurred you to make your list?”
