“I’m damn well aware of my reputation,” Bryce growled.
“Then perhaps you will consider sleeping here in the library?”
“Let us re-visit the part you mentioned about overstepping.”
“For your own peace of mind and hers,” Radcliff went on as if Bryce hadn’t spoken, “it might be best if you pass the night on separate floors of the house. If anyone should inquire about what went on here later, I shall happily testify that everything was proper.”
“Nobody will believe you.” Bryce knew what people thought of him. To suppose they would not imagine the worst was naïve.
“Nevertheless.”
Bryce nodded. “Very well. I shall do what you suggest.”If only to end this discussion.
Radcliff nodded and took his leave, allowing Bryce to return his attention to his brandy. Crossing the floor, he reclaimed his seat from earlier, leaned back, and glanced at the armchair Miss Potter had vacated a short while ago. With a grimace, he sipped his drink, savoring the rich flavor while a log snapped and sparks crackled in the fireplace.
She was beautiful and she was here, as if sent by the devil himself in order to tempt him. But he would resist… He curled his hand around the armrest. He would prove to the world he wasn’t the monster he’d been accused of being.
And yet, even as he made this vow with conviction, an unbidden image of her undressing began to invade his thoughts. She would bathe before dinner. A tub filled with hot water had been requested. Which meant she would unbutton her unflattering gown to reveal a pair of stays…a chemise… Bryce’s mouth went dry. He took another sip of his drink and surrendered to the fantasy of Miss Potter removing these last items of clothing. What harm was there in doing so? It wasn’t real, no more than a dream–a sinful wish–a secret hope… Another log snapped in the fire. His breath caught, and his heart rate kick up as arousal assailed him once more.
He had to stop this. It wasn’t helping. And yet he could not rid his mind of her sinking into hot water with a sigh of pleasure, of taking the soap and running it over her bare skin, of washing her breasts, her belly, the juncture between her thighs…
The glass in his hand shattered. Bryce muttered a curse. The remains of his brandy stained his trousers while shards of glass littered the carpet. He would have to call a maid to clean it up, though doing so would have to wait until he’d gotten himself under some semblance of control. So he simply retrieved his handkerchief and pressed it to the tiny cut his wicked imaginings of Miss Potter had caused. It was only one night. Surely he would be able to get himself through it without expiring from lust. And then tomorrow, after seeing her safely returned to Amberly Hall, he would set his mind to procuring a mistress. A necessary matter which seemed to be long overdue.
But when he sat down to dinner an hour later with Miss Potter directly to his right, the prospect of bedding another woman went straight out the window. He wanted this one, and he wanted her with a feral resolve that made his entire body ache with need. “How was your bath?” he quietly asked. Apparently, he would submit himself to torture.
“Oh.” She’d just taken a bite of the ham they were having. She chewed it, chased it down with a sip of wine, and gave him a smile that tightened all of his muscles. “It was lovely. Exactly what I needed after a long day of traveling.”
“And your bedchamber?” He ought to turn his mind to other subjects before he did something rash, like haul her into his lap and kiss her breathless. “Is it to your liking?”
“Indeed, it is so incredibly comfortable and luxurious.” A dreamy look overcame her features, and Bryce became transfixed. “The plush carpet is heavenly beneath my feet and the bed…” She actually sighed. “I cannot wait to lie back against its inviting mattress.”
Bryce stared. Did she have any idea how alluring she was being right now? Of how erotic she sounded? Of course she didn’t. She was an innocent young woman hoping to get herself married to an eligible young bachelor. The last thing she’d want to do was encourage a stranger to take certain liberties with her. “I’m glad you like it,” he managed to say, before returning his attention to his food in the hope of finding some distraction.
“I suppose you enjoy reading,” she said, after a couple of minutes.
Bryce blinked and met her inquisitive gaze. The blueness made him stop for a second in order to gather his thoughts. “I don’t hate it,” he finally managed.
She grinned, lifting the unhappy atmosphere filling his home for so long. “Considering the impressive size of your library, I should hope not.”
Allowing a slight smile of his own, Bryce held her sparking gaze. “Books have always felt like a sound investment.”
“So you’re a collector?”
He dipped his head. “I suppose you could say that.”
She nodded as if she understood, and perhaps she did. “Have you read them all?”
“No. But I have read the most interesting ones.”
His answer seemed to satisfy her. She gave a succinct nod and took another bite of her food before asking, “Do you collect other things besides books?”
“Coins and…” He snorted, wondering what she would think of this next revelation. “Flowers.” She stared at him for a second, and it occurred to him he was holding his breath in anticipation of what she might say.
“How intriguing.” She sounded pensive. “May I see them after we finish our meal?”
The interest with which she asked the question could not be denied. “Of course.” It would mean more time in her company, and however unwise that might be, he could not stop himself from giving in to temptation.
So he led her away from the dining room once they’d finished desert and guided her toward his most private sanctuary. He produced a key from his pocket, opened the door, and waited for her to enter, then followed her into the room where nature was turned into lasting pieces of art.
