“I’m going to have to leave my phone somewhere conspicuous once I’ve made some research notes, so that James can examine it,” Nate said. “He can satisfy himself that I’m taking this research seriously and check for any hint of ulterior motives behind my presence.”
“You called your grandfather,” I reminded him.
“Not an issue. I’ve deleted the call.”
We reached Jane Austen’s house, only to find it looked like a house. I’m not sure what more I was expecting, but thirty seconds’ inspection was enough for both of us.
“Coffee?” I’d quickly discovered that Bath was full of coffee shops, and some of them had mouth-watering cakes on display in the window. And, for some reason, I wasn’t in a hurry to lose Nate’s company.
We found a cosy little coffee shop that offered a variety of different roasts. Not that I was bothered—coffee was coffee—but Nate made a sound of approval when he saw the blackboard behind the counter, and he spent a little while choosing what to order.
“I suppose I’d better do some research,” Nate said reluctantly, watching me shovel down chocolate cake at a rate of knots. “Why did I think this was a good cover story?”
“You could always go light on the Regency research and heavy on the sex,” I suggested, trying to be helpful.
Laughter flashed through his eyes, and then something in him changed. He glanced up at me from under his eyelashes, his eyes glinting invitingly in the most blatant come-on I’d had in a long time.
“Tell me more about researching sex,” he invited, his voice low and with that purring note again.
It went straight to my cock, and I had to subtly adjust myself in my jeans under the table.
“I’m at your disposal if you want a research subject,” I said. Not exactly lightning repartee, but in my defence, I was so turned on that my brain wasn’t getting any blood.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, his eyes practically undressing me and leaving me hot and bothered.
My phone vibrated, breaking the moment. Just another Teague family WhatsApp message. Margaret couldn’t have waited five more minutes, till I knew if this attraction to Nate was going anywhere?
Nate had turned his attention to his own phone, our brief flirtation seemingly forgotten. My stomach safely filled, I sprawled comfortably in my chair and watched him typing furiously. His hair fell across his brow as his head ducked over his phone, and I had a sudden urge to reach out and sweep it back.
I shouldn’t like him. Physical attraction was one thing, but he was abanker.He was rich, entitled—look at how politely yet remotely he spoke to Mr Taylor—and he was completely at home with the Fortescues. Yet I was enjoying spending time with him. And he shared my sense of humour. Damn it, Ilikedhim.
Belatedly realising I could help him with his alibi, I started looking into Regency-era birth control. I sent my resulting wall of textthrough to his phone. He looked up when he got it, lips parted slightly in surprise, which wasn’t reducing my desire to jump him.
“Thought it might be useful,” I said. “Delete it if not.”
His brown eyes were warm as he smiled at me. I was mesmerised by them for a moment, before he looked back at his phone.
Somehow, that glance had left me more breathless than his come-on had. Yeah, I wanted to screw him. But as much as I wanted that, I wanted him to smile at me again, the way he had just now—warm and genuine. It was a world away from the practised smiles I’d seen him employ with the Fortescues last night. It felt as if it was just for me.
This was ridiculous. I couldn’t spend the rest of the morning staring at him like a moon-struck calf.
“Ready to move on to Sydney Gardens?” I asked.
Sydney Gardens was one of the places that Austen used to frequent. It was boring, though Nate’s company made up for that. As we wandered around looking at trees, grass, and some old buildings, he asked where in Cornwall I was from and what it was like.
I told him about the wildness and the beauty. Winter storms could be savage, blown in from the Atlantic, yet in summer it was like paradise.
“I mean, I’ve spent my life there, so I’d be bound to think this, but it’s different from anywhere else.” I glanced swiftly around, making sure no one would overhear what I was about to say. “There’s a feeling there I can’t explain. It’s as if dragonsbelongthere…as if it’s our ancestral home.”
Nate’s eyebrows rose, and I wanted to kick myself. Banker.Londonbanker. Friend of the Fortescues. Why the hell had I trusted him with an idea that I’d only ever shared with Margaret? His company was so easy, I’dforgotten who he was.
But he didn’t laugh at me. He didn’t even make an excuse to get away from the uneducated yokel who believed in myths and legends. “Didn’t the Celts in Wales and Cornwall stay independent of the Anglo-Saxons?” he said. “I think they did, and Wales is mythologically Dragon Central, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re picking up on something real. I wouldn’t know. The closest I’ve ever been to Cornwall is a Cornish pasty, and I’m afraid I didn’t like that.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You poor deprived sod. You need educating.”
Step one of Nate’s education involved taking him to the pasty shop I’d found on my first day in the city. They maderealCornish pasties, unlike the one he’d encountered, I guessed. Golden pastry was stuffed with meat and vegetables in just the right proportions and with the perfect amount of salt and pepper.
“It’s not long until lunch,” he protested, though that didn’t stop him from taking the pasty I handed him.
