[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Except the sweep of the dress rested across the bared upper skin of her throat, the hanger dangling over her shoulder, sliding down a fraction, the back of his knuckles caressing her…all of it in a way that no servant would dare.“Yes, perfect.”She cleared her suddenly dry throat.“Perfect for what, your lordship?”“I really think you should call me Maximilian.Or Max.Or Maxim, if you like.”He said it lightly, the offering of the name only his family dared call him, but there was something there under the words.A thread that caused her ire a momentary pause.“Given names are used only by those quite familiar to each other.” Her ire crept back in.“Such as those who might speak every day.”The edges of his lips curved invitingly.“I really must make you wroth with me more often.” He let the dress slip farther down, the edge of the hanger lightly tickling the sensitive pulse of her throat.“And I must rectify your notion that we aren’t yet familiar with each other.I plan to be quite familiar with you, Miranda.”The way he said it made her swallow again.As if he didn’t plan to sample her but to make her his entire meal.“Wear this.”“Why?” Her voice was a little too high.“Where are we going?”“It hardly matters, does it?” He tipped his head.“You don’t plan to fall to my nefarious tactics.” He leaned toward her.“Consider it an apology, our destination.I promise that I will be a good boy.”He casually dropped a slim book onto the table.“I lifted this from Colin when he wasn’t looking.Perhaps you might enjoy it.”She stared at the slim book, a compilation of Shakespearean sonnets in lovely, expensively bound leather.“Won’t your brother miss it?”“It was undoubtedly for an assignment.He wouldn’t be caught holding a book of sonnets he hadn’t written himself.” His lips pulled into a sharp smile.“I’ll buy him another should he grouse.” He pulled a finger along the leather.“Come with me, Miranda.Willingly.On your own.”She pushed at the siren call.Pulled forth every rational thought to which she could lay claim.“I will hardly finish cataloging your library if we go out.”“Then I suppose I will be able to keep you indefinitely after all.” There was something to his words…she could almost believe him.He walked backward from the room, a lazy regard underpinned by an intensity that stole her breath.“Soon perhaps I will, Miranda.”Miranda stared after him.Everything in her tangled and confused.She looked down at the gown.She shouldn’t let him toss her to and fro.She should set the gown back in the armoire and calmly walk from the room.“His lordship has excellent timing.The old bat is busy.I can do you up as I wish.”Galina must have been waiting on the other side of the door to have appeared so quickly.Waiting, listening for her cue.Miranda was nonplussed for a second as she again realized that people in the house were likely listening to all of their conversations.Galina had thawed a bit toward her in the days since Miranda had forced herself upon the staff in the kitchens.But she was still cool, her nature seemingly that way in general.The maid gestured her to a chair.“Knew that his lordship would return to you.I’ve been eyeing a few styles just for when he’d do so.”Miranda blinked, then swallowed.“Oh?”The maid said nothing, simply pointed to the chair again.“You listen,” Miranda said softly.“In the halls.”The maid watched her for a moment.“Yes.” She seemed to consider her words.“Which is why I knew he’d be back for you, unlike any of the others we’ve had.”Miranda went scarlet.The maid’s eyes narrowed.“You aren’t like any of the others.And they—” She tilted her head.“They were for show.”She gestured to the chair again, more imperiously.Miranda sat bemusedly, but her attention remained focused on the maid.“For show?”“Do not fear that we listen to each licentious gasp to determine such.” There was a hint of a smile about her mouth.Miranda colored again, still unbelieving that she could do so.But there it was in the cheval glass, rosy splotches on her cheeks.The maid leaned forward and lifted a brush.“But it is obvious that he’s never cared for any of the others.That there is something about you.”Miranda stared into the mirror without focus.“I am a simple shopgirl.”“Not so simple now, no?”“I suppose not,” she said softly, as the maid lifted her hair, examining how it fell.The path of least resistance in the short term was to remain in the chair, to let the maid dress her and go willingly with the viscount.But it was also fraught with the most long-term risk.For she could simply return to the library, demand that he leave her alone, and go on her way, mostly unchanged.Never knowing what lay at the end of the adventure.In his arms.The challenge changing from one of physically or intellectually seducing the other party to becoming part of the fabric of his life—at least for a short time.Galina smoothly pinned a section of hair.“One becomes used to listening when one is a servant.There is a rhythm to things here
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]