Chapter Eight
Lord Tobias Moran
Seated at my desk, I stared down at the page I’d read multiple times without absorbing a single word. Mrs. Worth had been flittering in and out in her quest to organize my office. For the most part, she had been silent, her footsteps muffled by the rug that covered most of the floor.
The shuffle of paper drew my attention against my will and I glanced up to see her bending over, her back to me. Mrs. Worth truly possessed a very tempting bottom, and I scowled at my lack of control. I had promised her a professional environment. Glancing at the clock, I growled in frustration. Barely eight hours into the day, and I was having difficulty keeping my promise to her. Maybe it was a mistake to hire her.I should offer her a nice bonus, give her a glowing recommendation, and send her on her way.The voice inside my head screamed no at the prospect.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked.
She had no idea how much.
Mrs. Worth straightened, holding the last three bundled manuscripts in her arms. She’d slowly cleared out the bulk of clutter in my office, and the strands of hair that had escaped their moorings, and her flushed cheeks testified to her efforts.
“You have made great strides today.” Each time she entered, I’d been pulled from my work, and when she left, I found myself waiting for her to return. It was silly, if not a bit obsessive, on mypart. “I daresay I must obtain more manuscripts to fill the space. The room looks rather bare.”
Mrs. Worth snapped her head up, her lips parting before she shook her head at my teasing. She gripped her load tighter, drawing it under her chest. “I have no doubt you will try.”
I lifted my brow at her witty comeback. Books were my passion; if I had the time and finances, I would publish several books a month. “You know me well already.”
She adjusted her stance and angled her head. The weak sunlight highlighted her hair with a gold halo around her face. “I am curious. Do you edit all of these, or do you hire other editors to assist you?”
“I acquire and edit them all.” Not a complete truth. Ash did edit some when I was in a crunch, but I couldn’t tell her that. His involvement with the inner workings of the publishing house needed to be kept secret until the situation with Brown was resolved. “Each work is handpicked by me. When I sign an author to my publishing house, I pledge my personal attention.”
“I see.” Her smile waned, and she licked her plump bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “I had best leave you to it. These are a bit heavy.”
“Let me help you.” Common sense said to let the matter drop and get back to the work at hand. Except I wanted to know the meaning behind those two words. “While you explain what you meant by ‘I see.’”
“I simply made an observation that the manuscripts are heavy.” Mrs. Worth deliberately avoided my question and stared up at me, her eyes the color of newly furled leaves. Indecision marked her brow before she made up her mind. “And that I should stop disturbing you.”
Too late, she already had.
“I am more disturbed by your refusal to explain your cryptic comment.” I took the bundles from her hands, our fingersbrushing. Her skin was soft under my fingertips, and I resisted the urge to linger. “What do yousee?”
“Is that truly a question you wished answered?” She turned to lead the way back to the reception area, her parting salvo resting between us.
“I don’t usually ask questions that I don’t expect to be answered.” I kept my eyes locked on the back of her head and never allowed them to drift to the pale skin of her neck.
Where before the reception area had been rather utilitarian, Mrs. Worth had already put her personal stamp on the space. A vivid red poinsettia plant with deep green leaves sat on the desk. “You brought a plant?”
“No, that was a gift from Mrs. Paul. Apparently, she considers herself a botanist and grows the plants in celebration of Christmas. Isn’t it lovely?” Mrs. Worth fingered one of the leaves before pointing to an empty place on a long table. “Please set those over there.”
The long wooden writing table was scarred and bore several deep gouges. The piece had belonged to my father. He had left the ducal estates with the clothes on his back after his brother bilked him out of the stipend my grandfather left in his will for Father. This was the first piece he’d purchased, and although it had seen better days, I kept it in his memory. After putting down the manuscripts, I settled my hands on my hips. Mrs. Worth moved behind the pedestal desk, another relic from my father. A napkin was laid out behind the plant with an apple and a round of cheese. My stomach growled at the sight of food. Once again, I had forgotten to eat.
“You must be famished.” She lifted the apple and handed it to me. “You haven’t eaten a thing today.”
“I can’t take your apple.”
“You will and you shall.” With a mischievous grin, she tossed it in my direction. I caught it mid-air, shaking my head at her antics. The apple peel possessed a deep red hue. “If you insist.”
She took the seat behind her desk, every inch the proper lady. “I do. It is my job, after all, to see to your needs.”
Do not look at her mouth. I was positive she missed the double entendre in her statement, which made me even more of a letch for thinking illicit thoughts about her lips. Her very kissable lips. “Thank you for the apple.”
