The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,105

this time it was her traitorous heart that wasn’t keen on listening to reason. Thus here she sat, daydreaming of Lucas charging through the door, yanking her into his arms, and ravishing her senseless. Just as he’d done in nearly every dream she’d had since their first kiss.

At the sound of the front door opening, she set her tea down, and stood up from her chair just as Lucas strolled into the room, looking every bit the dashing rogue with his dark hair tousled from the wind, his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and his waistcoat partially unbuttoned.

“You’re here,” she said, self-consciously tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

“You sound surprised.” Going to the serving cart tucked behind the sofa, he poured himself some tea.

The contrast between his large, rugged hands and the dainty tea cup was rather comical, and Percy smiled as she said, “No, I’ve just come not to expect you until dinner or later.”

He lifted a brow. “I can come back, if you’d like.”

“Of course not,” she said hastily. Too hastily, if Lucas’s grin was any indication.

“Good, because I’ve brought you a present.” He set his tea aside and reached into his pocket. From across the room she strained to see what he held in his hand, and when he beckoned her closer, she nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to hurry across the parlor.

“What is it?” she breathed, glancing down at his closed fist before lifting her gaze to his face. When she and Andrew were courting, he had showered her daily with all sorts of gifts. Flowers, shawls, jewelry. It had all been a bit overwhelming, to be honest.

And impersonal.

While she’d been appreciative of the expense the duke had incurred on her behalf, she couldn’t help but think that the red roses and silk wraps and pearls could have gone to any number of women. Truth be told, she didn’t even like roses. Not that Andrew had ever cared enough to learn her floral preferences.

“Close your eyes,” said Lucas.

Percy closed her eyes.

“Now, hold out your hand.”

She held out her hand.

There was a pause, and then a familiar scent filled the air as Lucas rubbed a small amount of liquid onto the inside of her wrist. Startled, she blinked at him. “Is that…”

“Your perfume. Here.” He motioned for her to tilt her head to the side. Sliding his hand underneath her hair, which she’d combed but had yet to put up, he brushed his thumb right behind her earlobe. “I figured you might like something familiar.”

“I…I do.” Distracted by the fingers he’d allowed to linger on the curve of her neck, she struggled to focus. “But how did you know what perfume I wear? Unless…” Her eyes flashed with accusation as she stiffened. “You stole it from Helena’s townhouse, didn’t you?”

“You sound surprised again.” He toyed with a curl before he dropped his arm and rocked onto his heels, his boyish smirk clearly unrepentant. “I’m a thief, love. Stealing things is sort of what I do.”

“Yes, but…” she trailed off as a reluctant smile teased across her lips. Some of his wickedness must have begun to rub off on her, because even though she knew she should have been appalled by his unlawful behavior, she couldn’t help but find it a little romantic. Certainly, the perfume was better (and more thoughtful) than flowers that would soon wither and die, or a shawl she’d never wear, or a necklace that would come to feel like a collar around her throat. Still, she couldn’t very well encourage Lucas’s bad behavior.

“Do not steal anything on my behalf again,” she said sternly. “Particularly if it involves breaking into my friend’s home. You…you didn’t see her, did you?” Hope kindled within Percy’s breast. “Helena?”

A shadow flickered across Lucas’s face. “I was careful to go when no one was in.”

“I miss them.” Trailing her hand across the back of a chair, she went to the window and nudged aside the curtain. The sky was gray, the clouds bunched together in an angry veil that threatened rain.

“Is it your plan to keep me here indefinitely?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then, what is your plan? If you are not going to sell me to the duke…”

“No one is selling you to anyone,” Lucas said fiercely. The floor shook with the strength of his powerful strides as he crossed the parlor and, just like in her dreams, took her into his arms. His hands wrapped around her bosom, his chin rested