The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,69
mixed messages on purpose, he was doing a good job of it now. He was the one who’d said she couldn’t use the front door. And he did stand by that, because it was best for his family. But that didn’t mean he had to like her being alone in the filthy mews.
“So I did.” He offered her his arm. “The problem is, there’s no good door.”
Her gray eyes darkened. Her lips parted. A responding sense of wonder built inside him as he witnessed her softening toward him. Was this…love?
Without warning, her expression turned sultry. She ran her hand along his upper arm and she licked her top lip. “You needn’t worry about me,” she whispered.
There was a woman inside her who was capable of emotion. And then there was this shell.
Con flinched from her caress. Embarrassingly, she drew her hand away and interlaced her fingers before her. She’d seen his revulsion at her flagrant overture. He hadn’t offended her, had he? It wasn’t that he didn’t like her touching him. He just wanted her to touch…well, him.
She fell into step beside him without him needing to explain that they were going to the front door. He led her through the mews to the cobbled walk peppered with perambulators and stopped before the entrance to Merritt House. All the while he was aware that while her hands looked dainty before her, he looked like a cad with his arms selfishly swinging at his sides.
She waited on the bottom step while he went up to the door and asked Mr. Benjamin to have Mrs. Dalton, the footman and his coat brought out through the foyer and not the back door.
When their little party was assembled again and making their way in the direction of Elizabeth’s leased house—this time detouring around Hyde Park—he decided to break the silence. “My mother was elated to see Oliver. I know it must have been difficult for you to entrust him to my care. Thank you.”
“I do feel as though you owe me,” Elizabeth said in a velvety voice. “But I suppose I’ve already collected, since you are taking me to Devon.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t want to keep a tally of their favors. He wanted them to help each other. “I mean it as a compliment.”
She looked askance at him. Her skirts swished about her legs. Occasionally the crowded walk forced her too closely against him, pressing her warmth along his arm. Sometimes she drifted so far away that he wanted to pull her back. “A compliment for whom?” she purred. “Yourself? For being so trustworthy?” She seemed to be teasing him, but he was too aware of her now not to hear her distress. She hadn’t enjoyed the afternoon any more than he had.
Maybe next time, he would heed his mother. He could bring Elizabeth in through the mews—he didn’t like it, but if he were there to see to her safety, then sneaking her into the house had to be better than not having her with him at all.
“Allow me to rephrase my praise in a more gentlemanly way,” he said, for she was right and he’d only complimented himself. “Thank you for coming to know me enough to trust me with your son. Our son.”
Her laughter rippled through him. “Do I know you, my lord?”
She wouldn’t admit she’d come to trust him even a little. It galled. “I’ve spent more time with you than anyone else in the last week. I should hope you know me a bit by now.”
Her smile trembled on her lips, as if she were trying her best to keep it there. He kept expecting her to say something, to reply with a pithy quip, but for the rest of the walk, she barely looked at him.
No one tried to stop and talk to them as had happened on the way to Merritt House.
They entered her foyer and Con blinked against the contrasting darkness. She turned to him, drawing off her gloves, and gave him a brilliant smile. “Will you stay for tea, my lord?”
He pulled away at her sudden friendliness. “No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” She moved to fuss with Oliver as Mrs. Dalton entered behind them. It seemed his entire life now revolved around this tiny child…and he didn’t really mind.
“I will stay,” he said abruptly. But he could make better use of his time than crowding the foyer.
Rand followed him into the drawing room.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll have a whisky,” Con said on his way