He slipped in quietly, and for a few moments watched her as she read, her slippered foot tapping the floor.
Lightly, he rapped his knuckles on the frame of the door; he didn’t want to startle her when she was so engrossed in her book. Yet she still jumped.
“Sorry, I was trying not to startle ye. But I failed.”
Clarissa straightened in the high-back chair she was sitting in and folded the book on her lap, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did ye need something?”
He almost groaned. Aye, did he, but he could never confess such things. “Nay. I noticed ye in here and thought I would see how your day in town went?” She didn’t have to know that he had searched her out.
A huge smile brightened her face. “We had a lovely time. The weather was lovely as we strolled the streets. We visited the modiste and we e’en stopped for lemonade.”
He smiled back, happy that she had enjoyed her time out.
“Ye can come in ye ken. I willna bite.”
Again, he stifled a groan. Her comment was innocent enough, but thoughts of her teeth nibbling his skin had his body roaring to life and he folded his hands in front of him, trying to hide his body’s reaction to her statement.
Stiffly, he walked over to the chair near hers, separated by a round mahogany table with a porcelain inset painted with flowers. “What are ye reading this time?”
She held up the book and he read the title. It wasn’t a book he’d read before. It probably belonged to his mother. He certainly couldn’t see his father reading such a tale.
“What is it about?” He wasn’t overly interested in the subject, but he was interested in Clarissa and spending as much time as he could with her. If she wanted to talk to him about bonnets he would sit willingly and cling to every word.
The look she gave him made him think she was wondering if he was actually interested in talking about the book.
“I ask because I am no’ familiar with it. It was more than likely my mother’s.”
Her brows creased. “I can put it back,” she moved to stand, and he reached out, catching her hand.
Frozen in time, they both stilled. Her hand felt so small in his. The soft skin a direct contrast to his calloused hands. An odd thing for a duke, but he always preferred to do the work himself. Aye, he had staff that did a lot, but for certain things, his sheep, for instance, he preferred to be hands on.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles and caught the hitch in her breath. The pulse in her neck quickened and he fought the urge to nibble the delicate skin there.
“Please. ’Tis no’ necessary. As long as ye are finding pleasure in it, then I want ye to continue to do so.”
Pleasure.
A loaded word for his current state.
She pulled her hand away and he missed the contact immediately. Her eyes snapped to the door as if she expected Nicholas to come bursting through it at any moment.
“Are ye sure ye dinna mind?” She asked softly, her pink tongue darting out and wetting her lips.
The vision went straight to his groin.
He shook his head. “Enjoy it. When ye finish, ye will have to tell me all about it.” He pushed up from the chair, not trusting himself to stay in the room much longer. The more time spent with her, the more he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her.
Would she allow it? Mayhap. They seemed to both enjoy the other’s company. But they had to get over the hurdle of Nicholas forbidding it.
He doubled back and leaned over her chair, his hands resting on the upholstered arms.
Her eyes rounded in surprise.
Not able to help himself, he lowered his mouth to hers, catching her lips in a soft kiss. He held himself back this time. Not like in the hallway previously, but he had the same response when he broke the kiss.
This lass would be the death of him.
She gasped when he straightened and he loved the way her fingertips went straight to her swollen lips.
