“The textile district. Fabrics. Who uses fabrics? Tailors, modistes… and narrow it down to who has a French background and… voilà.” She waved her dainty fingers in the air.
“Clever.”
“I’ve been called worse.” She winked. “And just to be sure, I ordered a lovely gown of magenta silk. It’s going to be glorious.” She sighed “ I’ll have to find someone to patch it up once I dissect it.”
Emerson frowned. “And why are you dissecting it?”
Jaxsen gave him a glare that communicated her thoughts regarding his intelligence.
“Because the fabric carries the message, my friend. I told them I needed the gown for a trip to France. They won’t miss the opportunity.”
“To send a message.”
“Exactly. Most ladies who travel will stay at one inn or another, and all they need is for one maid to recognize their design… sneak into the room… and boom! Easy and seamless—”
“You’re full of puns.”
“—communication,” she finished.
Emerson leaned back in his chair. There was no marginalizing her attention to detail. It was fascinating, astounding, and he knew that if he lived a thousand years, he’d never meet her equal.
But it was more than her all-seeing eyes and quick mind. It was her wit, her ability to cut through the flesh to see the bones. It haunted him, tempted him, called to him in a way that made it impossible to ignore, even when he was desperately trying.
“You’re staring,” she stated, her brows furrowing.
“You truly are incredible.”
She blinked twice, as if taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Indeed, and some day, when you’re not my superior officer, and when there isn’t any plot afoot to free the devil…” He stood from his seat and walked toward her. Leaning on his desk, he placed a hand on either side of her. Lowering himself to eye level, he matched her gaze with a heated one of his own.
She swallowed, her eyes widening slightly.
“…I’m going to kiss you. And it won’t be in efforts to become invisible to some fiend we’re chasing,” he whispered softly, his words lingering in the air like frost on a foggy day, freezing time. “It will be because you want me to, just as much as I want to kiss you right now.”
Chapter Nine
One moment she was quickly outlining details, and the next moment she was frozen in an icy gaze that was anything but cold. How could blue ice be hot? But it was, and sweltering. Her body ignited, heat traveling from her face to her neck and lower, pooling in her belly with an unfamiliar desire that left her senseless. The world closed in, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, but rather, bathed in it shamelessly.
A knock sounded on the door, and a maid bustled in. As quickly as it had happened, Emerson straightened and paced away from her, his broad back retreating even as her heart pounded out an excited rhythm. The maid set the tea service on the side table, gave her a quizzical glance and then quit the room.
Jaxsen flicked her gaze back to Emerson, remembering his words.
I’m going to kiss you…
She breathed in the promise, wondering just where she’d left her wits during the day, and if it would be possible to backtrack and find them, since they were so apparently missing.
Her fingers were tingling, an odd mix of anticipation and something she desperately hated — fear. This Viking god… He held one power over her that she’d yet to find in others.
The ability to hurt her.
Not in an area that could heal with time. But deep in her heart. It was utterly terrifying and yet exhilarating at the same time. But risky, too risky. So, with a fierce tamping down of her emotions, she shrugged at his back and forced her tone into a blasé tenor. “And what did you do today? Unless it was to solve world hunger, I think my day was decidedly more productive.”
“Is it always a competition?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and spearing her with his ice-blue eyes.
She gave a inward shiver of appreciation.
“Yes, always.”
