AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You are easily recognized, my lady.” His forefinger reached out, gently tracing the spray of freckles above one breast. The pattern reminded Ambrose of the Corona Borealis,a constellation his father had once pointed out to him long ago, before Edmund Collingwood had become a miserable sot.
A slight arch of her back in his direction betrayed her before she stepped away.
Theodosia was a bloody magnificent creature, absurd and yet so beautiful. Clumsy yet graceful. Bold yet shy. Ambrose wanted so badly to touch his tongue to the line of freckles, taste the warm smell of lemon emanating from her skin, bite—
Theo’s hand shot out, disrupting his thoughts, her fingers wiggling beneath his nose. She was gulping deep breaths of air, agitated and annoyed at him, the tops of her breasts pushing against her bodice.
The movement fascinated Ambrose, especially because he now knew what lay beneath the silk.
“Haven,” she sputtered. “Give it back to me. Bad enough you took it upon yourself to open it. Gazed upon it. But it isn’t meant foryou. It wasn’t addressed toyou.” The color of her cheeks deepened further.
“In all fairness,” Ambrose replied as calmly as was possible with the object of his erotic imaginings standing before him, “it wasn’t addressed to Blythe either.” A strand of dark, silky hair fell from her coiffure and bounced against the rounded curve of one breast, teasing the spot where he knew her nipple must be.
Pink. Like the underside of a seashell.
His mouth went dry thinking of that partially hidden peak so artfully depicted on the miniature. Ambrose struggled to remember what he’d been saying. Finally, he said, “How was I to know it wasn’t meant for me? Or for Blythe’s butler, for that matter?”
A small cry of outrage left her. Theodosia slapped a gloved hand atop the desk, knocking aside a paperweight Blythe kept atop his ledgers. A hideous bird of some sort. It fell to the floor and landed on Ambrose’s foot.
“Ouch. What is that thing anyway? A stork?”
“I came here because I changed my mind.” She stuck her fingers out again. “I’m not giving it to Blythe. So you may return it to me.”
“Are you and Blythe lovers?” The words erupted from him before he could stop them. Envy made his voice sharp. “Or are you just stupidly impulsive?”
Theodosia peered at him from beneath her lashes, possibly attempting to appear worldly. Or she was simply squinting because she couldn’t see. It was difficult to tell. “That, Lord Haven,” her lips curled, “is none of your business.” Her fingertips trailed suggestively along the edge of Blythe’s desk as she shot Ambrose a coquettish look. “I know why you kissed me at the house party.” She tucked the stray piece of hair back up into her coiffure. “You’re as transparent as you are prone to fistfights.”
Theodosia couldn’t possibly know. She’d been so bloody tempting, stumbling about the dark hallway, in danger of knocking herself unconscious with a giant candlestick. And he did envy Blythe her affection. But there had also been a whisper in the back of his mind that Theodosia, desirable thing that she was, could be his solution. After all, it was far easier to compromise a woman you actually wanted than one you did not.
Unless you found you liked her. Quite a bit. Then things became much more complicated.
“I doubt you are so intuitive,” he replied. Theodosia smelled of lemons and an underlying slightly oily scent he didn’t immediately recognize. Paint, maybe. The swell of her hips was barely discernable beneath the silk, the deep valley between her breasts beckoning him forward.
His trousers became entirely too uncomfortable.
“Blythe,” she stated with assurance.
“Blythe?”
“Your jealousy of him speaks volumes. You covet everything that belongs to him. This house, for example.” She lifted her hands. “The gift I painted expressly for him.” She paused for effect. “Me.” A smile crossed her lips at his stony silence as she allowed the word to sink in. “It’s obvious. As blind as I am, even I can see it.”
Ambrosewasincredibly envious of Blythe and did a poor job of hiding it. There was also a competitive edge to their friendship, one that led to arguments and stretches where they didn’t speak to each other. Blythe liked to bait him. Ambrose had a temper. Even so, he and Blythe were close friends, just not always in agreement.
“Does it bother you, Haven,” Theodosia continued, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, “that the only reason I returned your kiss was because I thought you were Blythe?”
“You didn’t think I was Blythe. At least have the courage to admit it.”
Theodosia’s mouth tightened. She took two steps in his direction before suddenly flinging herself at Ambrose as if she meant to tackle him to the floor.
Jesus. I underestimated her.
Her fingers grabbed at him, sliding beneath his coat, searching along his ribs and the inside lining. Another strand of hair fell down her shoulders as she pinched and prodded him with ruthless efficiency.
The entire lower half of Ambrose’s body coiled, thrilled beyond belief at her touch. “Theodosia, stop this instant. While I find this delightful foreplay—”
A hiss of outrage was her response.
“— and your wrestling skills seem to be finely honed—” Ambrose’s eyes widened as she pinched him again, this time hard enough to leave a bruise.
