To kiss me again.But she could not say that. Feeling heat flood up her neck and into her cheeks, she shook her head and then licked her lips.
He grinned. “You can count on it.”
To Fulminate
After visiting the bookstore, he took her to a tea house where she asked him all sorts of questions about writing, which led to a discussion about words and their power, and he, in turn, asked her questions about Latin.
“A single word by itself can paint a picture—knowing the precise, comprehensive meaning of any one word truly enhances communication.” She found herself telling him some of what she’d told her students.
“Tell me one of your favorites.” His attentiveness drew out more excitement than she usually showed anyone.
“Fulminare. It literally meansto flash with thunderbolts. Picture a ferocious storm in your mind. Now, take the wordfulminate.One English definition isto vehemently protest. In Italian, it meansto strike dead. Metamorphically, it was used by the church when referring to a formal condemnation.” Which, she imagined in those days, could result in tragic consequences.
“It’s violent.”
“Not just yelling or arguing.” She shook her head.
One corner of his mouth twitched up as he leaned forward.
Both of them rested their hands on the table and he slid his forward, barely brushing his fingers against hers. “Do you fulminate often?”
It was a silly question for him to ask. “Only with Diana.”
They shared a few stories about each of their siblings, and time flew by much too quickly.
“I’d best return you to your brother’s house or he’ll come after me with a pistol.” He glanced at his watch and winced.
“He won’t.” Would he? It was only a trip to a bookstore.
Since she’d not brought along her reticule, she’d lacked funds to purchase the first of Addison’s books but vowed to return the very next day for just that purpose. She didn’t care if it cost her an entire month of the salary she’d set aside from Miss Primm’s. She was determined to have a glimpse into his thoughts.
A slow drizzle began to fall just as the horses pulled them up to her brother’s house. This time when she waited for the duke—forAddison—to come around and assist her to the ground, she did so with a heightened sense of anticipation.
He couldn’t kiss her again—not on her brother’s doorstep. He should not have kissed her earlier, and they’d been lucky not to have been seen. Had it been springtime rather than autumn, Mayfair would be buzzing with society and their indiscretion would have already made its way through all the gossips.
“We were lucky to have escaped most of this.” Addison’s gaze shot to the sky and then back to her as he settled his hands on her waist. She took hold of his shoulders, trusting that he would lower her safely to the walk.
The moment reminded her of some she’d seen between Bethany and Chase—which was wonderful but also a little terrifying.
“Thank you.” She exhaled when her feet touched the ground. The drizzle chose that moment to strengthen to more of a downpour and yet he didn’t release her, nor did she move to rush inside.
“Thank you for allowing me to drive you, and for humoring my ramblings about my little hobby.”
“Not at all. I was honored that you showed me.” She blinked away a few drops of water as she stared up at him, her hands still on his shoulders. “You won’t mind, will you? If I read one of them?”
“Please, don’t think you must.” He was shaking his head, looking sheepish all over again. “Just the ramblings of a foolish man.”
A man. Not of a duke. “Not foolish.” He was staring at her mouth, and she flicked her gaze at his. She’d never wanted anything as much in her life as she wanted him to kiss her again. The longing was a physical ache, one that very nearly had her reaching onto her toes and tugging his head down to hers.
“Ahem.” The voice from the house had her dropping her hands and pushing away from heaven. Because that’s what it felt like to be in his arms. She’d later mock herself for such romantic thoughts but for now had something altogether less pleasant to deal with.
Addison dragged his gaze away from her to meet that of the scowling person standing on the doorstep.
Chase.
Rain pounding on his head, her brother stood just outside the door, coatless, wearing rolled-up shirtsleeves, elegant trousers, and only stockings on his feet.
“Inside.” He addressed Collette with a jerk of the head.
