A wry smile curved her mouth with mischief. “Why, Lord Fielding. Have you never been seduced in such a way before? From what I hear it’s all the rage on the Continent.”
“Is that so?” He was already trying to figure out how to get her up onto the bed so he could seduce her instead. The task would be easier if she’d release his foot. But she’d just pulled off his hose and was now holding him firmly by his heel.
He wriggled his toes. And then something warm and soft was sliding against his skin. Simon leaned forward to get a better look at what she was doing. A thick woolen sock, beautifully knitted from navy blue yarn, slid into place until the ribbing hugged his calf.
Ida grinned and clapped with delight. She was suddenly removing his other hose and putting on the matching sock. “They fit. Oh, I’m so pleased to see it, for I wasn’t quite sure. How do they feel?”
“They’re incredibly comfortable and I’m sure they’ll be wonderfully warm in the winter.” He gazed down into his wife’s bright eyes, so full of pleasure his heart was near bursting. “This is what you were making?”
A blush colored her cheeks. “Initially, I merely thought to repay your kindness toward me with a small gift in exchange for your help. But then, as I got to know you better and as my feelings for you deepened, it turned into a labor of love.”
With a smile of appreciation directed at her, Simon stood and walked a few paces, tested the feel of the socks she’d made. His chest tightened as he thought of all the hours she must have spent on them. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for him before. “Thank you, Ida. They’re perfect.”
“I’m so glad you like them.”
Her entire face was aglow with pure happiness. And he could resist her no longer.
In one swift movement he pulled her up off the floor and placed her on the bed. She laughed as he followed her down and sighed the moment he kissed her. “I love you, Ida, and I plan to show you how much every day for the rest of my life. Starting right now.”
She answered his declaration with a kiss so deep it seared his soul, then surrendered herself to his caresses and the promise of endless happiness lying ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arms crossed and with his shoulder propped against a post in The Black Swan dining room, Blayne MacNeil considered the woman who’d taken a seat at one of the tables in the opposite corner. Her face was softly curved, her eyes sharp with a hint of resolve, and her mouth a deep shade of coral with just enough fullness to stir a man’s blood. Black hair so glossy he fancied running his fingers across it, peeked out from beneath the brim of her spruce blue bonnet. Was her hair long or short? Straight or wavy? He wasn’t able to tell and for some odd reason, that irked him. But what concerned him most were the men who kept taking a seat at her table.
“What do you suppose she’s up to?” Blayne asked Claus as he passed. Both men had been in Carlton Guthrie’s employ until he’d revealed his true identity, claimed his title as the Duke of Windham, and married Regina. Now with Guthrie gone, Blayne had taken over the running of The Black Swan completely, and to this end, Claus was a great help.
Claus stopped and turned. He glanced toward the woman. “From what I gather, she’s conducting interviews.”
Blayne frowned and gave a curt nod. Claus continued past him toward the taproom. The man who’d been seated at the woman’s table while Blayne had been talking to Claus got up. Another man ambled over, spoke a few words, and sat. The woman dropped her gaze to a piece of paper she’d placed on the table and appeared to ask a question.
Judging from her attire, she had to be either gentry or aristocracy, which made her presence here at a St. Giles tavern shocking to say the least. She didn’t belong here and he wasn’t the only one to have noticed. Laborers taking their lunch at nearby tables kept glancing her way. Blayne flexed his upper arm muscles. If anyone gave her trouble he’d have to step in. He tightened his jaw and muttered a curse. The last thing he needed was a reckless woman on his hands.
The man she’d been speaking with most recently got up and another, more stocky fellow, approached her. He wore a slippery smirk that instantly forced Blayne to straighten. The man dropped into a vacant chair, not opposite the woman, but directly beside her. His gaze dipped to the vicinity of her breasts and his hand slid over her thigh.
Blayne stepped forward, moving swiftly between the tables blocking his path. But before he was able to haul the impertinent fellow to his feet and deck him, the man scrambled out of his chair and fled like the very devil was on his heels. Blayne stared after him in surprise.
The woman stood, spotted him, and smiled.
Blayne sucked in a breath. He’d thought her moderately pretty before from a distance, when her expression had been confined to serious lines. But when she smiled, she was absolutely radiant.
“How did you…” He wasn’t sure what she’d done, so he left the statement open in the hope she might explain.
Her smile widened. “I never leave home without my pistol. Knowing I’m able to defend myself against questionable characters eases my mind.”
“So would keeping to safer parts of Town, I’m sure,” he told her.
She tilted her head. Studied him with a shrewd gaze he found disconcerting. “Do you know. I think you’d be perfect.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“For the position I’m trying to fill.”
He crossed his arms. “I already have a job.”
She leaned forward, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. A sweet floral scent drifted toward him, and he could not help but breathe her in. “It pays exceedingly well. Ten pounds per week.”
Blayne gaped at her, the effect of her close proximity on his senses quite forgotten as he allowed the exorbitant wage to sink in. “What the devil do you want me to do? Kidnap someone and hold them hostage?”
