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To Antony’s amazement, his body obeyed her order. He released the chair and stood straight, taking a step back.
“That’s better,” she said with a triumphant smile. His eyes darted down to the curve of her lips again, wondering what would happen to that smile if he kissed her. He was in a happy daydream, imagining it as she lifted the book again.
“Please, leave,” she begged, but this time, he would not go.
He may have been strongly attracted to her and intrigued by her stubbornness and passionate spirit too, but that was his father’s chair. He still couldn’t allow her to sit in it, for no one was allowed in it. There was more to the challenge too now. He had obeyed one of her orders, and the idea of making her obey one of his was too tempting to resist. He was enjoying himself and determined to push it for as long as he could.
“I cannot leave until you get out of that chair,” he said plainly. “Move chairs, and I vow to leave you.”
“If I moved chairs, it would be giving in to your order,” she said, looking up at him again. “As I have just said, I will not follow your order just because you are a man.”
“What if I wasn’t staff?” he asked, feeling his lips turn up in a smirk. “What if I was the Duke, and I was giving you this order? Would you obey me then?”
She hesitated for a minute, not answering him. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he chuckled with the words. “You would obey me then.”
“I am not sure that I would,” she said with feeling. “I would certainly give him an argument on the matter.”
“How unusual; most people do what a Duke tells them to do,” Antony said snidely. “I rather think this is all just words, and you would do as he told you.”
“Your observations as his staff are very astute, but I am not like every other person he has ever met,” she said, holding his gaze.
As she turned her chin up an inch more toward him, he caught sight of the color of her eyes. His words died on his tongue as he flicked his gaze between them.
“What is it?” she asked, retreating back in the chair from him for the first time.
* * *
Hermione felt strangely examined by the man before her. She presumed he could be a gardener by the nature of his jacket, but, judging by the fact he was in the library, that was unlikely. Maybe a rather scruffy footman instead?
“I thought I asked you not to stare,” Hermione said, wanting the man to look away from her.
“You do not wish to follow my orders; why should I follow yours?” he asked, his lips turning up into a smile with the words. Hermione couldn’t think of a clever reply; he had outwitted her on this occasion.
She was distracted, staring back at him. This meeting was not what she had expected. The handsome stranger was making her stomach do strange things, tightening with excitement, and each time those stunning blue eyes of his dropped down to her lips, she felt a lurch in her chest.
What am I doing?She had never known this feeling before. It was an odd kind of yearning, one where she wanted to be closer to the man before her. It did not matter that he was staff, nor that he was being so rude to her; she was just intrigued by him.
Wonderful… I am attracted to a man who works for the gentleman I am supposed to seduce.The world was not dealing her a good hand at the moment.
“Please, leave,” she said again, knowing she had to put distance between them.
“I cannot leave you there in that chair,” he said, narrowing his blue eyes at her.
“For goodness’ sake, it is just a chair,” she said tiredly, lifting up her book again.
“What are you reading?” he asked, taking the book from her hands. Outraged that he dared to take it from her, Hermione jumped to her feet. “At last! That’s all I needed to do to get you out of the chair.”
“Oh, you are infuriating,” she snapped and purposefully sat back down in the chair with her hands placed on the arms of the seat.
“So close, but I ruined it,” he mocked himself as he turned the book over.
“Indeed, you did,” she said, unable to hold back her smile. “Now, please. I was enjoying the book, and I’d like it returned.” She gestured for him to hand the book back to her.
“A gothic novel?” he said, peering at the cover. “Well, it certainly suits this house.”
“You know the book?” she asked, startled so much that her hand dropped back down to her lap. “A well-read member of staff?” He looked up from the book sharply, his manner altered just a little.
“You could say that,” he said eventually. “If I do not give you the book back, then you’ll be forced to leave the chair.”
