“Oh!” she gasped. “I’ve no recollection of that one at all! And you, my lord, are truly debauched to have brought it to my attention!”
“You think so? I meant only to make a point,ma belle.”
“Yes! I truly do!” she scolded, coming to her knees, though he noticed she did not get up for fear that he would spy her stockings. “You are quite debased, sirrah!”
Why did he suddenly feel like a wretch?
“Please accept my humble apologies if I’ve managed to offend. It is a failing of mine, I fear.” He thought he sounded appropriately remorseful, and he must have, for she eyed him discerningly, and smiled slightly, settling back down.
“Truly, my lord…” She flipped the book about, examining the back, and then again met his gaze, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Is there such a question posed to Adelard?”
Inquisitive little vixen.
His lips curved in unadulterated pleasure. “Certainly.”
She gasped and discarded the book at once, setting it down between them. “Well! I would think it safe to say it is Adelard and his inquiring nephew who are the depraved ones! And you, my lord, are ultimately absolved!”
She gave him a coy little smile, blissfully unaware of how close she was coming to being thoroughly and lustily kissed. God, but he was tempted.
Strange as it was, he felt inordinately pleased with her blind defense of him. It had been a long time since anyone had defended him at all—deservingly or nay.
He chuckled. “’Tis most kind of you to absolve me,” he said. And to his amazement, he found himself genuinely enjoying their singularly peculiar conversation. He held her gaze an instant longer, reluctant to release it as yet, wholly mesmerized by the beauty of her pale green eyes.
She wasn’t wholly unaffected by him, he knew, for her blush was no longer one of chagrin. Her head tilted slightly, instinctively, and she leaned so far forward that her face was dangerously near his own. Christian had to constrain himself from leaning forward and brushing his lips against her soft pink ones.
He wondered how she would taste.
Sweet.
He knew she would be sweet. Sweet as the tender blade between his teeth.
She was the first to glance away, her gaze returning inevitably to the book lying between them.
“In fact I was searching for something in particular,” she explained a little breathlessly. “You see, I seem to recall that Adelard wrote of reason as a guide, and of authority as a halter. Are you perchance familiar with that particular passage, my lord?”
Flicking away the blade of grass from his lips with his fingers, Christian lifted the small volume from her hands. It wasn’t an original copy, but ancient, nonetheless. “May I?” he asked, and awaited her consent before opening it.
Her eyes flashed with gleeful anticipation. “Of course, my lord.”
He smiled, pleased, and held her gaze as he quietly flipped through the fragile pages, until he located the text in question.And then he read aloud to her, his voice thick, “‘For what else should authority be called but a halter...’” He cleared his throat. “‘Indeed, just as brute beasts are led by any kind of halter, and know neither where nor how they are led, and only follow the rope by which they are held.” He paused for breath, cocked a brow at her, and thinking he meant it as a challenge for her to finish if she could, she began her recital where he left off.
“‘So the authority of your writers leads into danger not a few who have been seized and bound by animal credulity!’ Yes, and he also claims reason has been given to all individuals, so that with it as the first judge, he may distinguish between the true and the false. Do you not agree with him, my lord? I mean that reason has been given to each of us,” she clarified. “Should we not think for ourselves, men and women alike?”
He lifted a brow, impressed. “Tres magnifique, m’mselle. I should have liked to say I knew the text so well myself.” He closed the book and handed it back to her, wondering at such a pointed question. “As to your query, yes. As Adelard suggests, ‘unless reason be the universal judge, it is given in vain to individuals. And whosoever does not know or neglects reason should deservedly be considered blind.’ I believe that fully of men and women both. Are you a dissenter, then?” he teased.
“Oh, nay, my lord!” she replied at once. “Though, at the moment, I believe my brother quite thinks so.”
“I see. And why is that?”
Her eyes, which had been fastened reverently to his, slid now to the book balanced upon her lap. She blinked, peering up into the treetops. “Well, I suppose...” She sighed. “I suppose ’tis because we are of such different minds, he and I.” She lowered her gaze to meet his eyes. “You see, my brother would be immensely pleased were I to see… things… his way.”
He gave her a commiserative smile. “Any one thing particular?”
“Not especially,” she replied, then more firmly. “Nay.”
Christian lifted a brow. “I see. Well, then, you are quite certainly entitled to your own mind, though I doubt Adelard of Bath intended for you to use his writings as evidence to that fact. I rather think he’d turn in his grave to know he’s inspired a young maid’s insurgence. You see, in his time, women weren’t considered individuals at all. Just as they wondered whether beasts had souls, so, too, did they wonder about women.”
“Say it isn’t so, my lord!”
