Page 42

Theo

He’d been gone when Theo awoke. The only signs of his presence were the slight impression in her mattress and the soreness between her legs. She shifted in the chair in front of her desk as memories from last night washed over her. She clenched her thighs, phantom wisps of pleasure spreading through her. Her quill snapped in her hand. She blinked down at it.

“Is everything well, Miss Dawson?” Perry asked, eyes wide.

Heat slapped her cheeks, but she forced a smile. “Focusing too hard.”

It wasn’t a lie. She just wasn’t focusing on work. The bloody man had been correct. She couldn’t seem to push away the memories of last night. Her body was desperate for another encounter. It was as though the bliss she’d experienced was haunting her. Theo had never been like this after a night with a man. A shag was all well and good—assuming the partner actually knew what they were doing—but there’d never been any sort of lasting effects before. It was pleasure, over and done quickly, then on to the next order of business.

She really needed to focus on the next order of business. She blew out a breath. She. Would. Focus.

All amended leases for those impacted by the fire had been signed and filed away. Now all that was left was handling the last individual affected. The Duke. She flattened the estate survey papers spread across her desk and reached for a new quill. She chewed on her lip as she scribbled down notes. This was looking exceedingly promising. The estate was rich in limestone. Which didn’t necessarily guarantee successful quarrying, but it hinted at opportunity—a possible profitable venture.

Her attention moved quickly across the surveys, marking possible locations. Her frown deepened as survey after survey revealed signs of limestone. It was everywhere. Surely one of these sites would support commercially viable extraction. She sat up straighter, her heart rate kicking up a notch. There was nothing headier than finding a solution to a problem, than finding new ways to better and improve the estate.

A vision immediately flashed. An arm banded tight around her. A palm cupping her. Thick. Hard. Steel. Drawing in and out of her. She let out an unsteady breath. Fine. There were a few things that were slightly headier than estate work.

She needed to get herself under control before the Duke arrived for their meeting. Which would be any minute now. She glanced up—and her gaze clashed with a pair of inscrutable grey irises. He leaned casually against the doorframe. How long had he been there? His arms were crossed, bloody delicious forearms bare. That wasn’t allowed. Didn’t he know he wasn’t supposed to roll up his sleeves? Not just for propriety’s sake. For his own safety. Theo wanted to bite them. They were that delicious. Ohmyheavens. What was wrong with her?

He watched her, and even though his lips were in the flat line they were always in, Theo had the oddest feeling that he was smiling at her. Or perhaps it had more to do with how fresh-faced he was. Well rested.

Because of her.

Regardless, he was clearly looking at her in a way he shouldn’t because Perry’s gaze was playing a game of shuttlecock with how it was bouncing back and forth between her and the Duke. He smelled gossip.

His Grace pushed off the doorframe and ambled into the room. His trousers stretched tight over his thighs with every step. Stretched tight over other things. Theo bit her cheek hard. They didn’t hide anything. She swallowed hard, and her hand shook. A movement the Duke didn’t miss. He stared down at her and arched a brow. In her periphery, Perry was making some sort of discreet hand gesture at her.

Shite. She jumped to her feet, the flush from earlier back with a vengeance. “Your Grace. I must beg your pardon. I forgot myself.” She bowed, her pulse thumping at much too fast a pace for merely rising to stand.

Those flint-colored irises danced. Knowing. “Miss Dawson.”

He lowered himself into one of the armchairs in front of her desk, and she followed suit.

“Let’s hear your ideas. I am much better rested today.” His heated gaze swept over her. “Though I find I might still have trouble concentrating.”

Heaven help her.

The Duke’s attention fell to her desk. He reached forward and gripped it with both hands, then gave it a shake.

“What on earth are you doing?”

His gaze slowly lifted back to hers. “Testing its sturdiness.”

Her entire body clenched tight at his low murmur. She shot him a look, hoping he caught the meaning she was trying to glare at him. Behave.

In response, he rocked the desk. “It should serve.”

“Yes,” she gritted out. “It should serve very well as my desk. To hold my papers, papers of which I would love to show you. Your. Grace.”

He waved a hand. “Proceed.”

She drew a steadying breath. She could do this. They could do this. Get through a meeting properly without any baser urges distracting them. “I have been exploring the option of quarrying for limestone. My research has yielded promising results. You’re extremely well-endowed, Your Grace.”

A choked noise came from her left.

Her words sank in, and her eyes flew wide. “Y-your estate—your estate is extremely well-endowed. In limestone.”

Her face was on fire. Based on the noises bursting from Perry, it sounded like he was having a fit. And the Duke—the Duke was sitting back, lips tilted up in an almost smile, eyes glittering as he enjoyed her embarrassment.