mattered one whit. When his gaze had fallen upon her, he had known, instinctively, that the blonde siren with her magnificent bosom on display was Hyacinth.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a small smile that produced the faintest hint of her dimples. “Although I must admit I have neither the patience nor the endurance to stand outside any man’s door for thirty nights, piercing my heart with a golden arrow.”
“If you stood outside my door, I would happily open it on the very first night,” he said. “No need for arrows or twenty-nine more nights of waiting.”
Her lips twitched. “You do not require me to bleed for you or bring you a new flower?”
You are flower enough.
The words were on his tongue, heavy and weighted. Silly, too. Frivolous. He had not brought her here to play Alteo to her shepherdess. Or to woo her. He was not the sort who seduced with effusive flattery. Romanticism was lost upon him now.
Why had he brought her to the library?
Tom could not, for the life of him, think of a single reason aside from the all-consuming need to have her alone. To have her all to himself so that he could bask unencumbered in the violet lights glittering within the depths of her blue gaze.
“Come to my door and find out,” he said lightly instead, removing his own mask as well. The cursed thing was tickling him. “Tonight, if you wish.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “And if I were to do so, what would happen?”
“More of what happened in your salon,” he said, because it was the truth and he could no longer deny it. He wanted this woman. Wanted her in his bed. “Much more. No poorly timed interruptions. I haven’t a mongrel haunting my townhome.”
“Lady is not a mongrel,” she denied without heat.
Tom had actually developed a curious fondness for the little furred maker of mischief. “How many of your books did she eat?”
“The frontispiece of Great Expectations.”
He could not contain a chuckle. “A mongrel of discerning tastes, it would seem.”
“Would you expect any less?” Her smile returned as her stare slipped over his features. “You have used my unguent? Your scrapes look vastly improved this evening.”
He had. Despite the scent of the stuff.
“I must thank you for it.” He rubbed his jaw, freshly shaven. “It does seem to work magic.”
Much the same way she did. What was it about this woman that affected him so? He wished he knew. Mayhap if he did, he could inure himself to her lure.
“And do you smell like your grandmère now as well?” she asked, stepping nearer.
She rose on her toes and leaned into him, so close, he had the most astounding view of her bosom. Straight down her gown. All the way to the pink hints of her nipples. If he had a modicum of decorum, he would avert his gaze. Stare at the spines of the tomes on the wall behind her. She inhaled, her nose nearly grazing his neck in the process. And he kept his eyes fastened upon her breasts.
Whoever had provided her with that costume deserved a bloody medal.
He cleared his throat, holding himself still. Grasping every bit of restraint he owned to keep from seizing her in his arms, raising her skirts to her waist, and fucking her into the next century against the books.
Ah, what question had she asked? Oh, yes.
“I shall leave the opinion to you, Hyacinth. What do you think?” he asked, hating himself for the thickness in his voice.
Her hands had come to settle upon his chest. Now, they slid to his shoulders. Instead of stepping away, she remained where she was. She inhaled again, and this time, her nose pressed against the skin just above his collar and necktie.
“I cannot fathom anyone’s grandmère smelling the way you do,” she murmured.
Tom gave in to temptation. He clasped her waist, hauling her against him. Why the devil had he chosen to wear old-fashioned breeches with his costume? They were painfully snug. Or perhaps that was merely the effect of Hyacinth’s nearness upon him.
“No more talk of grandmothers, if you please,” he growled.
It hardly seemed proper.
But there was nothing proper about this moment, this woman, or the way he felt for her. Everything was deliciously, wickedly improper. And though this was decidedly not the reason he had whisked her from the ballroom to Brandon’s library, he was not going to walk away now that he had her in his arms.