He considered.
Bonnie hadn’t moved. He was exquisitely aware that she hadn’t moved, that she was still leaning over his shoulder with her hand resting on the arm of his chair, that if he turned his head now he would be making a decision he couldn’t unmake.
He thought about the chess game. AboutI want you to kiss me.Aboutsomeday.
“Accord,” he said finally.
“Tender accord,” she murmured, as if testing the weight of it.
“Aye.”
She stayed one moment longer, and then she straightened as if nothing unusual had happened. Lyon looked at the fire, and the room settled back into its ordinary shape around them, except that it didn’t—not entirely, not for him.
He became aware, after a moment, that she was smiling at her manuscript with her lips pressed together, in the way she did when she was trying not to show something.
He became aware, after another moment, that he was watching her do it.
With a scowl at his own stupidity, Lyon slammed the manual shut and reached for his sketchbook instead. His hands needed something to do, and opened it to a fresh page.
“I could sketch them for ye,” he said, before he’d decided to say it, then caught his breath.
She looked up. He kept his eyes on the blank page in front of him, his pencil turning in his fingers.
“The embroideries. If ye need reproductions for yer book.” He shrugged, aiming for indifference and probably missing. “I’m accurate enough with technical drawings.”
There was a pause, and then she said, in a careful voice that suggested she was being very controlled about something, “You would do that for me?”
I would do anything for ye.
“Aye,” he choked instead.
Her smile bloomed, and he looked back at his sketchbook, and the blank page, and tried to remember what he’d been about to draw.
Shite.
Nay, that didn’t seem strong enough.
Shite fook damnation.
Closer.
Lyon’s heart was slamming against his ribs, his breathing coming too shallowly, as he prayed she would ignore his offer. Not read anything too deep into it.
Should’ve known it was a foolish hope.
Bonnie had stepped away from her notes and was now beaming at him.
“That would be amazing! The embroideries would be useful in my chapter on medieval life—especially medievalromanticlife—but my efforts to reproduce them have been rather sub-par.”
He swallowed, his voice still tight when he managed, “Ye want me to sketch medieval pornography for ye?”
Her smile turned impish. “I have chosen a few of the tamer ones for my book. But…”
The way she leaned forward as she trailed off told him she’d absolutely done it on purpose, to tease him. And he found himself leaning forward as well, absolutely not minding it one bit.
“But what?” His gaze was on her lips. Because of course it was.
“But I believe Iwillrequest you reproduce a few of the other, less proper pieces of needlework. For me.”
