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His gaping mouth abruptly snapped shut but his flush darkened, turning his golden skin ruddy. When he spoke again, it was gruff. “I’m dressed as a common laborer. No one pays them any mind.”
They will if the laborer looks as good as you do.
With brusque movements, Adam tucked a limp, grey neckerchief around his collar and began to tie it. In front of her, as if she were his wife. A blush stole over her cheeks, and she counted herself a ninny. She’d seen him unclothed so many times now that, were she to close her eyes, she could still map the lines of his strong body with neat precision.
“You’re tying that neckerchief all wrong,” she observed.
He snorted in amusement, “It’s a poorly cut lump of cloth, Miss May. Ugly clothing, ugly fit.”
Though she ought to stay put, Eliza moved to help him with his collar. One end was sticking up at an odd angle and would not settle no matter how he fussed with it. Gently, she smoothed it, aware of his proximity and the warmth of his big body. He watched her, his gaze lowering to her lips. As if greedy for his attention, they seemed to plump up, becoming sensitized to every light brush of his breath.
She felt her body slow down, growing hot and languid, wanting to melt against him. Eliza tried to fight it, taking steady breaths. As she began to tie the rather horrid cloth around his neck, she spoke in a low, and not altogether steady, voice, “One would think you’ve never dressed yourself before.”
“Mmm…” His voice was a deep rumble. “Or perhaps I’d rather you helped me.”
Her gaze flicked up, shocked. She started to speak, but the door burst open. Adam and Eliza flinched as one, and his hand came to the small of her back. In trod a young serving girl holding a tray of food. She caught sight of Eliza and Adam standing close, and she halted.
“Begging your pardon, my lord. I…” The girl went pink in the cheeks and promptly lost the power to speak further.
Eliza took the moment to move away from Adam, noting how his fingers tensed as if to hold her back, but she eluded him and went to the window. A tremor went through her hand as she gripped the heavy curtain. The man was too potent. Too tempting.
An opinion she gathered the young GIM shared, for the girl merely stood, gazing at Adam as if he were something of a god to her.
It did not help matters when he gave her a graceful nod of the head, his deep voice mellow with command when he addressed her. “Good morn, Miss Annabelle. I see you have something for us?” He eyed the tray that was presently tilting at an alarming angle.
Cups and crockery rattled as Annabelle righted the tray. “You’ll be wanting your breakfast, then?”
“Breakfast would be most welcome, my dear.” Outwardly, Adam gave no indication of insincerity or impatience. Indeed, he had that rare ability to make every person believe that his attention and interest rested solely on them. Eliza, however, knew better. She did not miss the tight rein he kept on his body. Or when his gaze flicked to hers, communicating in seconds his amusement over being interrupted and how he wanted to get her alone. The knowledge connected them on a level that disturbed her, and yet made her feel somehow as though she were finally precisely where she ought to be.
Eliza took a quick breath and turned her attention back to watching Annabelle.
Annabelle’s flush grew in depth and hue as she set the tray down. “Well, then” – the GIM bumped into the doorway – “I’ll… be going.” The poor girl was a lovely shade of magenta as she fled the room, slamming the door behind her.
The corners of Adam’s eyes crinkled as he went to latch the door. “She’s developed a bit of a tendré for me, I’m afraid.” His wide mouth twitched. “Or for the king of the GIM, rather.”
Eliza swallowed down a snort. “Doesn’t everyone who meets you?” The quip was out before she could think better of it.
The latch clicked shut. Adam glanced at her from over his shoulder, and his mouth quirked. “Everyone but you.”
He strolled across the small space between them, his gaze rapt.
“You never gave me the chance.” Eliza pushed past him, seeing the question forming on his lips and not wanting to answer.
But he followed, close on her heels, the looming wall of his body providing warmth in the cold chill of the dim room. “And if you’d had the chance?”
Eliza stopped. Behind her, Adam stood, his chest not quite touching her shoulder blades, but near enough to feel his heat. Not turning, she stared up at an intricately carved cuckoo clock that hung upon the wall and she pretended that warmth wasn’t blooming over her breasts. “A moot point as that time has come and gone.”
Gently, but with clear purpose, he caught hold of her elbow and turned her to face him. His expression was stern, his brows drawn over eyes of deep gold. God, but he was too much for her. Every time she looked at him directly, she could barely breathe. He was like the sun, blinding her, making her want to both turn away and look upon him endlessly. When he spoke, his voice was deep, almost urgent. “And if you had the chance now?”
The press of his fingers seemed to burn through her sleeve and into her bones. She could lie to him. Drive the wedge between them deeper. He stood, motionless, waiting for her answer. Eliza took a breath, aware of her ribs and breast pushing against her corset. “I am drawn to you.”
His nostrils flared, his lids lowering in a lazy, leonine way that was pure sin. “And I to you.”
A river of heat snaked down her center. He drifted closer, his broad chest nearly touching the tips of her breasts. Eliza fought the urge to put a hand up to stop him. “It’s merely attraction.” Her voice was too faint, too unsteady. “Attraction does not mean that we are…”
