Lucien smiled as he smoothed the tendrils from her temple. “Yes, I know, and the reason was thievery. But I’m not angry about it any longer. I just want it returned to me, and then we can explore more of this. And I must confess, I’ve quickly become completely obsessed with your mouth,” he said, nibbling at the corner.
She closed her eyes, absorbed in the pleasure of the moment. Yet, something niggled at the back of her mind, and she slid her hands to his chest.
“You said ‘all was going to plan’ a moment ago. What did you mean by that?”
“Precisely what it sounded like. I had everything under control in this game of ours. I was going to hold firm and not give in to your clever seduction. But when you picked up that little ball and knocked the cuckoo from its perch, all the while gazing at me with those fathomless eyes, madness took over. I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I had to surrender.” He grinned at her, that damnable dimple winking. “Just tell me what I have to do to reclaim it. Name your price. I’ll give you anything.”
“Are you still talking about the book?”
“Of course,” he said, his tone fondly teasing. “You were absolutely right when you left that note telling me that I’d met my match. I have, indeed. And I’m eager to put aside what is between us.”
“And I wasn’t referring to the book just now, but to fate,” she clarified, as his smile fell and his brow furrowed.
He shook his head in confusion and lowered her to the step. Putting space between them, he raked a hand through his hair. “That’s ludicrous. This is nothing more than passion. Desire. We both feel it. We both want to give in to it. I thought we were ready to bargain like two sensible adults. Apparently, I was mistaken.”
“Like two sensible—” She stiffened, seething. “I should like to return to the inn now, if you don’t mind.”
He issued a curt nod and pulled on the hem of his coat.
Smoothing her hands over wrinkled muslin, she stepped down . . . and heard a crunch beneath her shoe.
His spectacles.
* * *
Lord Holladay stayed behind to enjoy the clock-tower tavern, leaving Meg and Lucien alone in the carriage. With every jarring bump in the road, the silence and tension grew into a splintering wall, as if they were dropping stacks of firewood between the benches.
By the time they reached the inn, she had built her ire into a flaming conflagration surrounded by sharped-tipped spears. If he dared utter a single syllable more about that book, she was going to unleash every one of them on him.
And yet, she knew the anger was only protecting the vulnerable opening of her newfound feelings for him.
It wasn’t love. Or at least she didn’t think so. But she knew that she couldn’t feel this way, this constant need to be with him, the ache when she wasn’t, if there was nothing between them.
Dismally, as they neared the inn, she realized things would have turned out differently if she’d remembered to act like Lady Avalon. An adventuress. A woman who seduced men for her own gain . . . And a shield for someone who’d merely wanted to experience one grand flirtation.
Meg drew in a deep breath. “I am glad that you’ll never know how it might have been between us.”
“I’m certain I can imagine,” he said, but she saw the way his throat tightened as he swallowed. Behind the rims of his broken, single-lens spectacles, his eyes were heated and hungry, the way they had been in the bell tower when he reluctantly admitted that he found her irresistible.
A surge of feminine power filled her.
Embracing her role as infamous book thief and vixen—at least as far as she could manage whilst knowing virtually nothing about either practice—she slowly removed her gloves. Then she crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward to adjust a twisted stocking, lifting her hem a few inches above her trim ankle. She peered up at him through her lashes and saw him follow every movement. Excellent.
Finished with the task, she situated her skirts and eased back against the squabs on a satisfied hum. A muscle ticked along his jaw, his hands flexing over the edge of the bench. Then, when he darted a glance to her lips, she wet them with the tip of her tongue and heard his quick intake of breath.
Her pulse thrummed hotly, triumphantly. “Whatever you’ve imagined isn’t even close to the truth. I have a certain, shall we say, aptitude for pleasure.”
“Aptitude?” His voice cracked. A slash of red painted the crests of his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. “As in—”
“Talents. Skills. Surely, a scholar such as yourself does not require the definition.” She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug that drew his attention to her breasts as the carriage rocked to a slow stop in front of the inn. “Needless to say, I can do things that no ordinary woman would even think of, let alone be bold enough to try. And it pains me to think of what might have been. And I’ve no doubt you’d have wanted to research all the ways that I can—”
As expected, the efficient porter opened the door and lowered the step. And she didn’t bother to finish, because it was obvious by Lucien’s one fogged lens that she’d already made her point exceptionally well.
Chapter 14
By the skin of his teeth
Lucien took a walk in the early morning fog, needing to clear his head. Yesterday’s impulsive excursion to the bell tower had left him rattled. And now he wasn’t certain how to proceed.
He never should have lost control. Yet, after days spent at her side, drinking in her smiles, laughs and light touches, he’d been going mad with desire. He’d even told himself, while marching across those cobblestones toward the church, that all he needed was one taste. Just one small sample would be enough to sate him. Then he could return his focus to the matter that had brought him halfway across the Continent.
But he’d been wrong. So very, very wrong.
At some point between the time that her intoxicating lips met his and her last sigh rushed sweetly over his tongue, he’d come to understand why men had reputedly lost their treasures to her. They’d likely just handed them over, willing to pay any price to have her. And he had been on the verge of making that same error.
The knowledge had shaken him. She’d done this to him, turning him wild with desire. Clearly, she was a master of her craft, which was all the more reason to steel himself against her charms.
So he’d forced himself to stop and remember his own purpose. This quest was about retrieving his family legacy. Not learning the precise dimension of her form pressed against him so that it would be impossible to stop craving her.
But she hadn’t liked being reminded of their cat-and-mouse game. And to be honest, he wasn’t entirely certain why she was still playing it when she’d already taken his most prized possession.
What else could she possibly want?
He was afraid of the answer. Afraid that his mind would begin to calculate all the ways he could give her whatever she asked.
Lucien returned to the inn just as the fog began to dissipate, the vapor stirred by a procession of porters bearing trunks, band boxes, portmanteaus and tapestry satchels. As he stood outside the door, they filed past him toward a rather familiar hired coach.
At once, his brow flattened, and his irritation spiked. Apparently, the Parrish women were leaving early. And since their party and his were supposedly traveling together, this change in the plan was news to him.