The truth? Cheesy at it sounded, even to his own ears, he was a romantic. A rioting heart, sentimental, wide-eyed, hopeful romantic. It was hard to find sex when all he wanted was pure, passionate, life-changing love.
Or rather, hewantedsex. But he wanted the kind of toe-curling, moan-inducing, all-consuming passionate sex that two people had when they were in love.
“Now, you tell me your news—the truth, this time—and I’ll tell you mine. And you’d better hurry up because I’m bursting here.”
“Fine. Fine,” he said, chuckling, trying to play off the pounding of his own blood in his ears, trying to play off what a big deal it was, how often she’d come up in his thoughts since leaving her. “I kind of met someone today.”
“At Ashbrooke? Is it one of the maids?” Angie’s eyes widened; she’d already seized on the erotic daydream potential. “Does she wear the uniform? That’s some hot—”
“Not a maid.”
“Cook?”
“No.”
“Chimney sweep?”
“Do they still have those?”
“…Lady mechanic?”
“No.”
With all of her options expended, Angie’s pale Irish skin went impossibly whiter. Her jaw dropped. For several seconds, she simply shook her head, not managing to speak.
“Don’t tell me it’s the duke’s daughter,” she choked.
He played dumb, but his voice pitched too high and he knew there was no way she’d buy it. “Does he have a daughter?”
Truth be told, if Thomas hadn’t told him about her, he wouldn’t have known the duke even had a daughter. Growing up, he’d always heard of the lord’s son, especially considering he was the head of the Animos Society and a consummate troublemaker when he was younger, but he hadn’t heard of a daughter.
“Shit, man! You’re Bambi-eyed over Lord Dubarry’sdaughter? What did you say?”
“…We didn’t, you know, talk. As such.”
“What? You shoved her in a closet and gave her a silent, passionate dicking?”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
The force of his own words surprised him, but they rolled right off of Angie.
“Sor-ry,” she practically yawned, the word dripping with honeyed sarcasm. “I didn’t realize she was off-limits.”
“I just saw her. A couple of times.”
“And did she see you?”
“Not the first time. She was distracted. But the second time she did. Through a window.”
“Ohhh.” She drew out the word, a dismissive taunt.
“There was a spark!”
Therehadbeen a spark, hadn’t there? He hadn’t spent the day remembering something totally one sided and accidental… Right?
Oh, God. What if he was totally making up this whole thing because he was desperate for someone to write a song about? How pathetic was that?
“The rich girl and the poor stable boy. Where have I heard this one before? Oh, right. Everywhere. Because it always ends the same way.”
