“Find anything interesting?”
He looked up to see India standing in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame.
“I haven’t looked beyond the first page,” he admitted. “It’s quite the jumble.”
She walked forward and settled onto the settee, curling her feet underneath her. It was a decidedly unladylike pose, but it seemed entirely natural that she had done it. Her fingers went to the curls at her ears, and she cocked her head at an angle as she twirled a strand of midnight hair.
He watched in fascination. Everything about her was attention getting. He could no more explain his attraction to her than he could his passion for Pagoria, but the two seemed so wildly intermixed now that he hadn’t a hope of disentangling himself.
“Shall I sit beside you so we may look over your book seller’s notes?”
He cursed the odd catch in his voice. She reduced him to a school boy, nervous and awkward. His hand reached automatically for his spectacles, and he slid them off as he rose.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, her expression curious.
“Do what?” he asked, as he settled beside her.
He forced himself to relax, fighting the urge to fidget.
“Remove your spectacles every time I’m around.”
He swallowed. “Habit, I suppose. I hadn’t realized I did so.”
Liar.
“I like them,” she said simply. “They make you look very distinguished.”
She reached for his hand and gently took the spectacles from his grasp. She unfolded them and carefully placed them on his nose, making sure the arms tucked behind his ears. Then she smiled. A gorgeous, breath taking smile.
He groaned deep and low in his chest and swallowed again to keep the sound from escaping. Her lips danced in his direct line of vision, temptation, ripe and succulent. He now knew how Adam must have felt in the Garden of Eden.
“You’ve never told me how you became so interested in Pagoria,” she said, breaking silence.
He cleared his throat and shifted slightly away from her.
“I gather it’s not something your family was interested in.”
He snorted. “You could say that. My father has made it his mission in life to castigate me at every turn because my interest lies somewhere other than the earldom.”
“You don’t want to be the next earl?” she asked with a raised brow.
He shoved his hand in his hair in agitation. “I am well aware of my duty. Of my birthright. It is not something I would ever shirk, though my father seems to believe otherwise. And as much as I like to needle him, I am well aware of my responsibilities. I merely happen to believe that my interests do not conflict with my future as the Earl of Dryesdale. My father does not agree.”
India took the papers from his hand and shuffled through them. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“I am too.”
Silence fell once more. Then the sounds of rustling as India sorted through the book seller’s notes.
“Interesting.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s interesting?”
“Some of the ideas on Pagoria’s origins.”
“What does it say?” he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He leaned over so he could see over her shoulder.
“What do you know about Pagoria?” she asked. “Or what do you believe? Perhaps that is a better question.”
