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“You were upset, Lady Andromeda,” he leaned down from his great height, the scent of pine, leather and trees invading her nose, “because you didn’t think I remembered you from Lady Masterson’s garden party.”
The buttons of his coat were mere inches from her. If he moved, even slightly, he would brush the tips of her breasts.
Romy told herself to step away from him, but her feet refused to move, shocked by his words.
“But I do remember you.” His voice grew husky. And annoyed.Veryannoyed. “You are hard to forget.” The dark gaze dropped to her lips. “Impossible, it seems.”
“You should seek a new valet,” she stuttered, horrified to find her nipples were growing taut beneath the fabric of her dress.
“Should I, my lady?”
Her mouth must be fascinating. Granby hadn’t taken his eyes from her lips.
“Your hair touches the collar of your coat,” Romy said, wincing at the outlandish and improper observation.
“What a thing for you to notice, my lady.” A hungry look crossed his face, his gaze dipping to her breasts again before returning to her mouth.
Attraction, powerful and sharp, spiraled into the small space separating their bodies. It sparked between them like tiny bolts of lightning releasing from a summer storm, the force of it sending a shiver down to Romy’s toes.
“I notice many things.” There was a seductive quality to her reply, surprising Romy almost as much as did the overwhelming need to touch him. What would Granby do if her hands splayed across his chest, testing the muscles beneath the fine lawn of his shirt? “I was right about your coat, Your Grace. Surely my advice should be followed.”
“You have an argumentative nature,” he purred, so close his breath ruffled her hair. “It infuriates me. A young lady should be demure. Obedient.”
Romy’s lips parted, her entire body arching toward his in invitation. “I’ve never been considered...biddable.”
Granby’s fingers skimmed the line of her jaw before tilting her chin up. “I don’t suppose you have.” The husky octaves of his words pulsed against her skin.
He was going to kiss her. And Romy was desperate to have him do so.
Their breath mingled in the rose-scented air as the pad of his thumb ran gently over her bottom lip.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the stillness of the afternoon, disturbing the silence cocooning them in the garden.
His thumb stilled before jerking back from her, hand falling to his side. His dark eyes flashed with savage, thwarted hunger and then faded to their usual chilly flatness. Granby took a deliberate step back from her, regarding Romy with both desire and dislike.
She blinked, slightly dazed, willing away the intoxication of Granby. Looking down at her feet, Romy focused on regaining her senses, her breath coming in short bursts, shocked at what had nearly occurred.
A curse drifted toward them, along with a string of muttered apologies.
Romy lifted her gaze, careful to avoid looking at Granby, and walked down the path until she had a clear view of the terrace. Theo was apologizing profusely to Lord Haven while he pushed her hands aside, wiping furiously at his coat.
“Not that it is any of my affair,” Granby’s cool words came from behind her, “but does your sister have some sort of affliction? In the last hour, she’s run into the balustrade, nearly tripped a servant, and now ruined Haven’s coat.”
“Vanity, Your Grace. Our physician suggested spectacles last year, but she chose not to bring them to The Barrow.” Romy took a cautious step in the direction of the terrace.
The scowl once more crossed his lips as he surveyed her with a frosty glance. Had Romy truly been a shrub, she might have merited more interest.
“If you will excuse me, Your Grace. I should go to my sister’s aid.” Her legs were unsteady as she moved forward, still trying to understand what had nearly happened and her own reaction to it.
“It would be best if you did, Lady Andromeda.” His broad shoulders dipped, effectively dismissing her. He reached inside his coat, pulled out a cheroot and proceeded to ignore her.
“Agreed.” Romy fled to the terrace without looking back.
* * *
“I seeyou’ve reacquainted yourself with Lady Andromeda Barrington.”
David flicked the ash from his cheroot and saw Blythe on the path before him, his own cheroot clutched in one hand. Lighting the end, Blythe took his time before speaking, seeming more concerned with enjoying his smoke. Finally, he said, “Did she have anything to say about your clothing this time?”
