Her teeth snapped together.
The houses here all butted up against each other, the doors right on the street. Reaching the fifth one from the tea shop, Gabe opened it and walked inside.
“What is this place?” She stood in the entrance and turned on her heel, taking in the small space. White walls, no adornment. Gabe had not decorated the place with much, just what he needed.
“It is my place.”
“But why do you have it?” She frowned.
“I wanted somewhere to come where I can think and be alone. Come, I will give you a tour.”
“You said you had a room. This is a house.”
“Pardon me for not clarifying.”
She hesitated when he nudged her in the back.
“No one will see you here, Dimity. But of course, if you wish to leave, I will not stop you. But if you go, you will not see my other secret.”
She looked from him to the stairs.
“I can stay a few minutes.”
She followed him up, and he showed her the small parlor that held a table and two chairs, and the bedroom, which merely held a bed. He tensed as they approached the second bedroom but opened the door and waved her inside.
She walked into the room and went to the easel by the window. Gabe liked to paint, but he was just learning. It had been something he’d started as a child, but after the death of his mother, he’d not done so again.
His father had been ravaged by sorrow and needed his eldest son’s help managing estates and helping to raise the other Deville siblings.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
He exhaled slowly. Moving forward, he stood behind her and looked at the canvas. It was a painting of the rooftops outside the window. Smoke, blue skies, and floating clouds.
“It’s wonderful,” Dimity added, looking up at him. “You have a talent, my lord. Why is it you do not paint at home with your brothers?”
He wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that, and if he was honest there was no reason not to share this with his siblings. They would not mock him for it.
“I don’t know, really. I just wanted it to be something I did alone.”
“Well, it seems you have a great deal more in common with Mr. Diard than I first thought.” Her smile was full of mischief.
She studied the painting again; he studied the soft tendrils at the base of her neck beneath her bonnet. The curve of her gown’s neckline left skin exposed, and he wanted to place his lips there. Gabe was alone with a woman he dreamed hot, erotic dreams about, and suddenly that was a very bad idea.
“Dimity,” Gabe rasped. “You should go.”
Her eyes shot to his. Turning slightly, her body now angled toward him.
“Yes.” She didn’t move.
“The door, you should leave through it,” he managed to get out.
“Yes,” she whispered, still not moving.
He touched her cheek, running a single finger down the silken skin before untying the ribbons that held her bonnet in place. Removing it, he dropped it to the floor.
“I shouldn’t kiss you,” he said, lowering his head.
“No, you shouldn’t,” she said, turning fully to face him.
