leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “I did.”
“What did he say?”
A corner of his mouth hitched up a little higher. “What are you willing to trade in order to learn of his preferences?”
Why couldn’t he have disappointed her on this matter? Why couldn’t she have been wrong that he would require something of her? “Why can’t you merely tell me?”
“Because I was rather inconvenienced.” He lowered his head slightly and arched a blond brow. “As I believe I mentioned I would be.”
She sighed heavily. “What do you want?”
Reaching behind her, he took hold of her plaited hair and draped it over her shoulder, the one nearest to him. “Your hair unraveled, like Rapunzel.”
Blinking, she stared at him. “So you can tease me about how hideous it is?”
“Why would you think it hideous?”
“Because the color is an unusual red, not a pretty shade. And I possess an abundance of unruly curls.”
“The color is why I’ve always liked it. Because it is so bright, not drab or boring. Why I’ve always wondered how it might look spread out”—abruptly he stopped speaking and gave his head a small shake—“loose.”
“You like something about me?”
“It’s only a small thing. Don’t let it go to your head.”
His disgruntlement made her feel a little more settled. She lifted the tip of her plait and reached for the ribbon that held the woven strands secure.
“I’ll do that.”
She watched in fascination as his deft fingers pulled on the end of the ribbon until the bow her lady’s maid had created earlier disappeared. Slowly, so very slowly, he loosened the satin until he could slide it free. Into the small pocket of his waistcoat it went.
“Carry on.” His voice was low, soft, sensual almost.
She wondered why he didn’t complete the task, wondered why she wished he had. He studied her with such intensity as she began unraveling the strands that it became difficult to draw in breath.
“Not so quickly,” he murmured.
“I’d never realized you were a man of patience.”
His gaze lifted to hers, stayed for a heartbeat before drifting back to her hands. “Only when it comes to certain things.”
“Women?”
The grin he gave her was devilish. “Most assuredly.”
She slowed her fingers even more, for her enjoyment as much as his. She liked the way his eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, his lips parted ever so slightly. It was doubtful she’d have noticed if she hadn’t been scrutinizing him so closely. At balls, she’d held conversations with gentlemen, had danced with them, but not a single one had ever looked at her as though at any moment he might leap on her and devour her.
It was an odd thing that Lord Griffith Stanwick was looking at her thus. He was probably further in his cups than she realized, so far in fact that he’d forgotten who stood before him. And that they’d always been at odds.
When she unraveled the last bit of weave, she shook her head to scatter the tresses and give them absolute freedom. She heard his breath hitch, and her own responded in kind. She was not at all comfortable with the warmth and strange tingles traveling through her in a chaotic manner. She needed to be done with this. “So what does the duke want in a wife?”
“Quiet.”
Balling up her fist, she smacked him hard enough on the shoulder that he reeled back two steps.
“What the devil?” He wasn’t studying her hair now but was glaring at her as she was him in equal measure.
“I did what you asked, and you tell me to shush? You go back on your word?”
Rubbing his shoulder, he scowled. “Kingsland wants quiet in a wife. I daresay you’re going to have a time of it fulfilling that requirement.”
Oh. Well. She felt rather foolish. Brushing his hand aside, she began stroking his shoulder to ease the hurt she’d inflicted. She hadn’t expected him to be so firm, so toned. Obviously, she’d misjudged how he spent his days. It seemed they encompassed very little idleness. “My apologies for misunderstanding, although a complete sentence issued on your part might have prevented the confusion. What else does he require?”
As the silence stretched out, she darted a quick glance up to see him staring at her hand as though he’d never seen one. She couldn’t recall ever touching him with such purpose before that moment. A grazing of their fingers when he took the key hardly counted, even as it had caused her lungs to seize up momentarily. Self-conscious regarding the intimacy she was displaying, she