“I see.” A scowl drew his brows together.
The tips of her toes peeked from under the hem of her skirt, and she shuffled the fabric to cover her feet properly, lest she broke another rule of the etiquette. Although she didn’t understand what was wrong with showing her bare feet to a gentleman. “What were you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Christopher smiled, a boyish smile that brightened his eyes, but twisted the scar on his face. “I’ve brought you this.” He showed her the book. “I thought you wanted to read it tonight.” His jaw hardened. “I didn’t want to intrude, so I decided to leave the book here.”
“Thank you.” A knot of emotions clogged her throat.
He’d thought of her. In fact, he’d noticed the book she’d been holding. She stretched out a hand to take the book, but stilled when her fingers brushed his.
A frisson of pure fire shot through her, and heat spilled in her chest . . . and lower. He sucked in a breath, his gaze dropping on their touching fingers. In a mad moment of boldness, she dared stroke his thumb with hers. A tremor quivered through him, and his Adam’s apple worked up and down in a fascinating movement.
Slowly, he handed her the book as if he were worried she might bolt out of the house.
The rough pad of his thumb stroked her inner wrist once, but it was such a light, quick touch it might’ve been a casual gesture, not something he wanted to do. Still, her body didn’t seem to understand the difference and reacted with a new hot flush of need straight to her aching core.
“Thank you.” Her voice rang husky and low.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down again. “You’re welcome. Have a good night.” He bowed and limped away in the dark corridor, taking a little piece of her heart with him.
