“You’re pretending to like what you don’t.”
“The gift is unique. That’s not a lie. And I thank him because he thought of me and went to the trouble of bringing me something that brought him joy to present to me. The actual gift is not important. It is the act of giving and the pleasure that results for both parties, hopefully, that matters. When I look at the atrocious gifts lying around my residence, well, they do warm me because they remind me of Hollie and the way he smiled when he gave them to me.”
He’d assumed she’d demand particular gifts, gifts that, if need be, could be taken to a fence or sold. That she’d be difficult to please. She was spoiled for choice when it came to benefactors. “I suppose it pays to keep him happy.”
Her eyes dulled. Her small smile withered. “Ah, yes, Langdon, that’s exactly why I demonstrate kindness: for the benefits doing so brings to me.”
It seemed he couldn’t go long without tossing an insult her way.
Although she merely turned her attention back to the book, it felt like a hard slap across his face. The woman was too damned skilled at communicating with her actions and body. He had no doubt that if she was drawn to him in the least, the desire would be fairly sizzling like the lightning across a darkened sky. It couldn’t be denied.
Instead, he was left with the impression that shecould hardly be bothered with him. Which was fine. Which was how it should be. He shouldn’t be bothered with her. Taking a deep breath, he focused on his book. But it couldn’t snag his attention. His entire being was attuned to every aspect of her: each breath, each turn of a page, each twitch of a toe. She looked relaxed, content.
While he was strung so tightly, he thought he might break. It was the book he was reading. Or trying to. It wasn’t doing its job to distract him. He needed something different.
He shoved himself to his feet, set the book on a random stack, walked over to another, and grabbed a different novel. He stopped by the fire to add a few more logs. There was a definite chill in the air, and he suspected it was coming from her following his last comment. He didn’t want to like her. Certainly, when he’d first seen her in the secretive rooms at his club, he’d been drawn by her beauty but lust was more easily ignored when a woman didn’t appeal to him on an intellectual level. She was beginning to appeal and in his defense, he’d been an arse.
If he were smart, he’d find an excuse to go out in the rain and stomp around for a bit until he’d worked her out of his system. The problem was, he didn’t know if she was the sort that could be worked out of his system—not until he’d had her at least. Naked. Flush against his body. In his bed.
Putting distance between them by retreating to his bedchamber wasn’t a viable option because he wouldn’t be able to look at the bed without seeing her sprawled over it. At the settee without envisioningher lying along its length. At the washbasin without recalling the feel of her in his arms.
After unfolding his body, he stormed from the room, went to the kitchen, snatched up a box, opened it, and returned to the main chamber. Like a recalcitrant child, he sat in his corner of the sofa and placed the box between them. “I have a fondness for chocolate,” he announced. “You’re welcome to however many pieces you’d like.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she slid her attention to his offering.
“Is that an apology?”
“I don’t know how long the rain will last. It will be more pleasant if we’re not at odds.”
“I didn’t realize we were.” She plucked a bit of chocolate-covered caramel from the box and studied it. “I have a weakness for sweets, but chocolate is my favorite.” She slowly pushed it into her mouth, her lips puckered as though she was kissing it.
He had to look away. He’d put too many logs on the fire and his face was probably turning red from the heat. “You can’t help it, can you?”
A smack echoed between them, followed by what sounded very much like a lick—and that had him turning back toward her.
She arched a brow. “Pardon?”
“You can’tnotbe provocative.”
She picked out another piece and popped it into her mouth. “I suppose it’s ingrained in me to put on a show when I’m not inside my residence. I’ll try to be more attuned to your sensitivities.”
“I’m not bothered by it. I was merely making an observation.”
Bringing her feet up, she tucked them beneath her and twisted around slightly, closing the book, leaving a finger inside to serve as her marker. “You’re not comfortable with me. I suspect because you don’t quite approve of my... life.”
“I find no fault with it. I recognize that choices for women who choose not to marry are limited.” It was something Poppy continually complained about.
“Who choose? Not all women are given a choice. I wasn’t.”
He furrowed his brow. “What? Did Hollingsworth kidnap you?”
“Nothing quite so dramatic. If you find no fault, then why are you irritated with me?”
To lie or reveal the truth? The truth, he decided, would shock her down to her toes. Shocked him actually. He wanted her so badly he could barely see straight.
“Listen,” he said in a low voice instead. Her eyes widening, as though that would improve her hearing, she went still. “Do you hear it?”
“What?” she asked softly, and he wanted that sensual sound repeated with her mouth against his ear.
