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“Good day, Wright.” She spoke in the most nonchalant and unconcerned tone she could summon. “Lovely day for climbing rose trellises, what?”
He dangled the spectacles closer to her. “I presume these are yours?”
“Er... yes. I lost them while”—trying to see down your trousers—“watering the roses.”
Ludicrous.If she’d been watering the roses, she would have poured water on his head.
“Really?” His voice dropped to a rough, conspiratorial whisper. “Because I thought you might have been spying on me.”
“Don’t be silly. I needed a breath of air. I opened the window and I... I don’t have to explain myself to you. Hand over my spectacles immediately.”
His laughter was low and intimate. “A lofty lady would never spy on a carpenter, is that it?”
“I wasn’t spying.”
“I see,” he said with a smirk.
“I don’t.” She held out her palm.
Instead of giving her the spectacles, he reached forward and set them on her nose, using one thumb to gently hook the wires over each of her ears in turn. She was so startled by his touch that she froze in place.
His thumb brushed her right ear. Somehow the tip of her ear was connected to the pit of her belly. Which was connected to...everything.
His face sharpened into focus.
She’d known his eyes were blue. What she hadn’tknown was that his left eye contained an uneven patch of golden brown, like a sunflower silhouetted against a summer sky.
His chin was hard-angled, and there was a cleft slightly to the left of center. Dark whiskers shadowed his strong jawline.
Don’t do it, Beatrice. Donotmelt into a puddle of quiveringninnyhood.
She took a steadying breath. “You’d better climb back down before that trellis breaks under your prodigious weight.”
“Don’t worry about me, princess.” He winked. “Repaired this trellis myself. It’s built to last.”
“Do stop calling me princess,” she said irritably, the nonchalance she’d been striving for making a fast retreat.
“You’re imprisoned in a tower.”
“I’m here quite by choice. I’m writing, or I would be if you weren’t making so much noise.”
“Is it the noise that distracts you?” He flexed the muscles of his free arm. “Or the man.”
Beatrice gulped for air. Why must the man incessantly call attention to his physical endowments? “Such an ostentatious display might be efficacious where housemaids are concerned, but it has no effect whatsoever on female scholars.”
“You’re not fascinated by me.” His voice swirled from velvet to smoke. “You never watch me from behind the curtains.”
He caught her gaze and held it.
He’d seen her watching.
A fresh wave of mortification washed through her mind. “If I happened to glance out the windowfrom time to time, it was due to sheer frustration. You’ve ruined what was meant to be a tranquil literary haven.”
“And here I thought I’d been inspiring you.”
“Inspiring? Hardly!”
“I was sure you were scribbling away at a romantic novel and needed inspiration for describing your hero. That’s why you were always gazing at me from the window.” He gave her a smoldering look. “I’d be happy to provide a more up close and personal study.”
