had to move at twice the pace to keep up with him, meaning she had to engage in a delicate balancing act to avoid spilling her wine all over his carpets as they traveled.
There was the possibility he was taking her to his bedchamber. Jo was already in treacherous territory indeed. She should stop him. Demand he take her back home. But whether it was the connection they had made in their conversation, or whether it was the claret she had consumed—mayhap both—she did not want to go.
She was enjoying this clandestine meeting with Decker far too much.
As it turned out, her fears were unfounded. The chamber they entered next was a dining room. He gave a discreet order to a servant, and then seated her at the table. Jo placed her goblet before her and watched as he folded his lean form into the chair opposite her.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“What does it look like?” He raised a brow, giving her a look that made her think of bedchambers once more. “I am feeding you.”
That was not the response she had expected. What manner of rakehell brought a lady to his home and then led her to the dining room so he could feed her? A contradictory one, she was certain. There were layers to Elijah Decker. And Jo wanted to get to know them all, to peel them away, one by one.
Along with his clothes.
Where had that thought emerged from? Her ears went hot and she forced herself to think of something—anything—else. Definitely not the way his chest would look, bereft of his shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and jacket. Absolutely not the muscles she had felt, the barely leashed strength simmering beneath his surface.
“I dined earlier this evening,” she told him, finding her voice.
“We are not having an elaborate multi-course meal. We are having dessert.”
As if on cue, the servants returned, bringing a tray laden with delicate crystal bowls. She counted almost a dozen, each filled with molds of cream ices in varying colors and design.
“Thank you,” Decker said. “That will be all.”
When the footmen had gone, his gaze settled back upon her.
“I love cream ices,” she blurted.
Her lack of composure she blamed upon the claret, too. She was altogether unsettled.
“I guessed as much,” he said, his voice low. “I noted how much you enjoyed it at Sin’s dinner party.”
The dinner party Callie and her husband had held the previous week had been rather large. Jo had not supposed Decker had taken notice of her at all. They had not been seated near to each other. The knowledge he had been watching her filled Jo with warmth.
And with something else, too…
She cleared her throat. “The pineapple cream ice was splendid.”
He gave her a slow, deliberate grin that turned her insides into mush. “Take your pick, my dear. Or try them all.”
Each bowl was neatly labeled with the flavor it contained. She read them: cucumber, almond, cherry, orange flower water, and pineapple. Each one sounded equally delicious. In truth, cream ices were one of Jo’s weaknesses. She had yet to discover a flavor she did not enjoy.
“Which do you recommend?” she asked, that troubling heat inside her continuing to glow.
She was beginning to fear Mr. Elijah Decker was one of her weaknesses as well. He was certainly every bit as tempting as cream ice.
“I like the orange flower water myself,” he said.
“I shall try that one first, then,” she decided, selecting a bowl containing cream ice molded into miniature blossoms.
The first cold, creamy spoonful on her tongue was decadent and delicious. Floral with a hint of rich citrus, ending on a note of bitterness that seemed somehow perfect.
“What do you reckon?” he queried, selecting a bowl for himself as well.
She swallowed the tart confection. “It is every bit as splendid as pineapple.”
If being alone with Elijah Decker at his home had seemed surreal, eating cream ices with him in his dining room felt like the sort of silly dream she would have in the morning, when she was half-asleep and half-awake. The sort that made no sense and brought together the most ludicrous combinations. Once, she had dreamt she had commissioned a wardrobe made entirely of crustaceans.
Jo could not stifle her chuckle at the memory.
“Share the joke if you please,” he ordered.
“It is far too ridiculous to share,” she denied.
“Nonsense.” He pinned her with that bright stare, his eyes narrowing. “You cannot laugh and then refuse to tell me the reason why. It is against the rules.”