The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,53
had already cost her a few long strands of hair. Con had entered the room and stood not two feet from her. Close enough that she could detect the heady scent of his shave lotion over the less-subtle smell of Oliver’s wet cloth.
“My lord! Please, come no nearer!” She turned away, as if a few inches could shield Lord Constantine from the ripe stench.
He frowned, clearly puzzled. “I merely wanted to—”
Her cheeks had never been hotter. “He—he isn’t ready.”
Con’s aquiline nose twitched. “I see. Rather, I smell.”
She closed her eyes briefly. Yes, she detected the soggy warmth spreading from her son’s bottom to her arm. No, that was not her imagination. Yes, this too-handsome man was regarding her with twitching lips and glowing mirth. “I think I may have caught you at an awkward time.”
“Here,” Mrs. Dalton said, “I’ll take him and get him freshened up. I’ll ring for Nelly on the way.” She looked at Elizabeth’s sodden arm and her cheeks reddened, too. “I’m afraid these things happen, my lord.”
Con was outright laughing now. He stopped long enough to glance around the room. “Is there a bellpull?”
“It’s broken,” Elizabeth replied. “Mrs. Dalton will need to go ring for her from another room. I’ll be just a minute, my lord. Dalton, have Nelly meet me in my room.”
“Yes, madam.”
Con’s eyes darkened at the mention of her room. His laughter warmed unmistakably to something else.
She was too exhausted to understand it. Why would he still think of her in that way? When she’d just shown him a glimpse of her world when he wasn’t there?
With a last look for Oliver, who had abandoned his tears and now gurgled contentedly at his nurse, she preceded Lord Constantine from the room. She could feel his presence in the hallway behind her. She hadn’t meant for him to follow her to her room, but she didn’t doubt now that it was where he meant to go.
He ambled while she hurried. She forced herself to slow. The pressures of motherhood had clearly affected her tonight. She didn’t feel the least inclined to lure Lord Constantine into her bed—even though he seemed almost intent on following her there.
She stopped abruptly just before the stair and took a quarter-turn step to thrust her back against the wall. Con easily came abreast of her.
His eyes darted at those breasts before he caught himself. “What is it?”
Her heart skipped a beat. He was clearly coming around to the idea of bedding her. But she hadn’t forgotten that her hair was coated in spittle and her sleeve reeked of urine. “It wouldn’t be proper for you to come with me.” She made herself sound teasing, but she had no intention of allowing him into her room.
“Oh?” His gaze made a slow walk down the stairs. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as propriety, when it comes to one’s mistress.”
Mistress. The appellation warmed her like hot tea. When she looked up at him again, however, he was laughing at her. “It’s about time I’ve bowled you over as hard as you’ve bowled me.”
Another splash of tea turned her insides sweet. She was careful not to let it show on her face, however. He was already reading her so well it left her at a disadvantage. She couldn’t let him see more than what he’d already discerned. “I thought you’d be happier exploring my sideboard than watching my maid do her level best to remove this dreadful stain from my favorite gown.”
He pulled a face. “You do manage to take all the mystery out of it. Very well, I’ll kick up my heels while you see to your toilette. And then I will get to the bottom of your note?” He raised a mischievous brow while still managing to maintain the slight furrow between his eyes.
She nodded sharply once, feeling the strain of the day weigh her down again. She’d almost forgotten the reason for his visit. What was it about him that sent her all aflutter whenever he entered the room? “I will.”
He watched her warily. “Your expression concerns me.”
There was no way to respond to that other than to lift her skirts, bob a curtsey and scamper down the stairs to her dressing room. Distasteful. That was how she felt about her objective tonight. First she must trust him with the truth—but she’d already done that, hadn’t she? And he had come. Her fragile faith hadn’t been misplaced. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind her imposition, either. Wouldn’t it be