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“No,” she said, her voice overly loud. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting anyone. The library is usually vacant this time of the morning.”
He shrugged. “I like to read. Lady Danbury told me I may make free use of her collection. I say, what’s that in your hand?”
Elizabeth followed his eyes to her hand and gasped. Good God, she was still holding the book. “It’s nothing,” she blurted out, trying to shove it back into her satchel. “Nothing.” But her nerves made her fingers clumsy, and the book tumbled to the ground.
“It’s that book you were trying to hide from me the other day,” he said with a triumphant gleam in his eye.
“It’s not!” she practically yelled, dropping to the floor to cover it. “It’s just a silly novel I borrowed, and—”
“Is it any good?” he drawled. “I might like to read it.”
“You’d hate it,” she said quickly. “It’s a romance.”
“I like romance.”
“Of course everybody likes romance,” she blathered, “but do you really want to read about it? I think not. It’s very melodramatic. You’d be bored silly.”
“You think?” he murmured, one corner of his mouth rising into a rather knowing sort of half-smile.
She nodded frantically. “When all is said and done, it’s really a book for women.”
“That’s rather discriminatory, don’t you think?”
“I’m just trying to save you some time.”
He crouched down. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
She shifted so that she was sitting squarely on the book. “It’s good to be thoughtful.”
He moved closer, his eyes glowing. “That’s one of the things I like best about you, Elizabeth.”
“What?” she squeaked.
“Your thoughtfulness.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” she returned, practically jumping on his words. “Just yesterday you thought I was blackmailing Lady Danbury. How thoughtful is that?”
“You’re trying to change the subject,” he scolded, “but just for the record, I had already decided you weren’t the blackmailer. It is true that you were the initial suspect—after all, you do have rather free access into Lady Danbury’s belongings—but one doesn’t require very much time in your company to make an accurate assessment of your character.”
“How thoughtful of you,” she said acerbically.
“Get off the book, Elizabeth,” he ordered.
“No.”
“Get off the book.”
She groaned audibly. Her life couldn’t have possibly come to this. “Mortification” couldn’t even begin to describe the state of her mind. And “beet” couldn’t begin to describe the state of her cheeks.
“You’re only making it worse.” He reached down, and somehow managed to grab the corner of the book.
She immediately hunkered down. “I’m not moving.”
He leered at her and wiggled his fingers. “I’m not moving my hand.”
“You lecher,” she breathed. “Fondling a lady’s backside.”
He leaned in. “If I were fondling your backside, you’d be wearing a decidedly different facial expression.”
