One Night with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #10) - Erica Ridley Page 0,32
realized I get on with you. He was probably afraid I was taking liberties.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I like how you take liberties.”
“Is that so? Then perhaps I needn’t take them,” he said. “If you want me to have any more liberties, you’ll have to give them to me yourself.”
“Watch me.” She pressed her lips to his.
This kiss was different than the one before. Mr. MacLean was hesitant, unsure of his welcome. Angelica was determined to clear up any misunderstanding.
Just because he wouldn’t stay was no reason not to enjoy a kiss or two whilst he was here. If anything, it made things easier. She had avoided men’s company because she wasn’t ready to be someone’s wife.
But Mr. MacLean wasn’t looking for marriage. He was not disappointed in her for indulging ambition. He understood. He would do the same. More importantly, he was the sort of person that would support her decision no matter what it was, just because it was her decision to make.
What could be more attractive than that?
She broke the kiss, but only moved far enough to look into his eyes.
“Miss Parker—”
“Angelica,” she corrected.
He grinned. “Jonathan.”
The next kiss was even sweeter.
She loved the way he cupped her face with the same gentle tenderness as when he first touched her hand. As though she were precious. She didn’t think he expected more from her than kisses, but...
She broke the kiss again. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
“I understand.”
Did he? “I won’t make love unless I’m married.”
She had told him so before, but the terms bore repeating.
He nodded. “The chain of events is clear.”
“And you still want to kiss me?”
“I’ll never stop wanting to.”
“It’s only until the snow melts,” she said. First-naming each other changed nothing. “When your business partner arrives...”
“I’ll be too busy to think of anything but Fit for a Duke,” he finished firmly. “And then I’ll be gone. You’re not the only one with big plans.”
No. But Angelica was the one who suddenly wished their big plans didn’t conflict. That he could stay. That she would have time for him if he did. That they could find an excuse for this to last longer than a fortnight.
That goodbye didn’t have to be final.
He kissed her cheek rather than her lips. “Off to work, then. No more throwing your heaving bosom into my embrace until dinnertime.”
“My heaving bosom is now a respectable distance from your waistcoat,” she pointed out primly.
His eyes twinkled. “Aye, so you admit your bosom was heaving.”
She smacked his shoulder before slipping around to the other side of the counter. Her lips couldn’t stop smiling. He was incorrigible.
“Are you going to read or sketch today whilst I work?”
“I thought I’d share a wee bit o’ Scotland.” He held up a book and made a show of clearing his throat. “Robert Burns, Address to a Haggis.”
She covered her face with her hands. “You’re lucky I don’t actually listen to you.”
But the truth was, she’d listen to him read anything. She loved the low, smooth timbre of his voice, the soft burr on his tongue.
“I almost forgot,” she said as she set a string of paste rubies into the holly. “I thought of jewelry you could offer with Fit for a Duke.”
The ode to haggis ceased abruptly. “Something better than a cravat pin?”
“A lover’s locket.” They were often beautiful gold capsules with a secret frame inside, bearing a tiny portrait of a loved one’s eye. The locket could be worn as a brooch, or hung from a necklace next to one’s heart.
She glanced up in time to see his jaw fall open with enthusiasm.
“That’s brilliant,” he breathed, abandoning Robert Burns to come and sit across from her. “Lover’s lockets are all the rage, and can be fashioned in so many styles. Wheat, plumage, Greek...”
“Mosaic, cameo, intaglio...” At his blank look, she explained, “Designed with recessed engravings.” She held up the adornment she was working on. “Like the texture of these leaves.”
Jonathan pulled his notebook from his inner pocket and began madly scribbling notes. “They won’t come with their lover’s portrait inside, of course.”
“Or the wisp of their lover’s hair,” she added with a grin. “But it could be designed in such a way that all your client need do is slip the lock of hair and partial portrait in place, and voilà. He can keep his lover hidden next to his heart.”
“That’s what we’ll call it! ‘The Duke’s Secret.’ Everyone will be clamoring for a locket of their own.” His eyes shone with excitement.