Page 28 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
But the problem was a big one: He thought her a man. And he thought her too young for what he had in mind.
On the one hand, knowing he was speaking with her about sexual relations made her arousal spike all over again… But on the other, knowing he thought her a boy confused the hell out of her.
Was he only attracted to her because he thought her a lad? Or in spite of it? Or did her gender not matter, and he was attracted either way, and it was merely her age and position in his household which held him back?
With a groan, Kit lifted her head from the glass just enough to drop it back down again.
Dammit. Maybe I should’ve glued on a mustache so he thinks me at least old enough to shave!
Behind her, the door opened.
She whirled about in time to see Thorne stop suddenly just inside the room, staring at her.
Oh. Oh good.
Apparently we’re making this awkward.
Frustrated at the way her heart had leapt at seeing him, and with him for not being able to pretend nothing had changed between them, Kit held up his waistcoat, still trailing the needle and thread, and scowled.
“You can’t wear this waistcoat to the ball tonight. I’m sorry, but I’m having a hell of a time mending it so the tear isn’t visible.”
Shesawthe moment Thorne decided to pretend as if tornsilk was the most important thing in the world. As if he hadn’t slept with her in his arms. As if he hadn’t avoided her since. As if he hadn’t tugged his cock last night and spent in front of her, all at her command.
His shoulders rolled back, his arms relaxed. His gaze went from wary to focused, and he moved across the carpet with all the skill and grace of a ballet dancer.
“Let me see it.” Thorne stepped close enough to take the silk from her hand. “Blast, ye’re right. And my stitches arenae as small as yers, so I’m useless.”He knew how to sew?“Well, I suppose I could choose—nay, Lady Stallings specifically asked me to wear green.”
The Stallings were hosting the assembly. Did he know Lady Stallings personally?
He dropped the waistcoat by his side and blew out a raspberry. “Well, I suppose there’s only one solution.” His expression brightened with an enthusiasm which made her grin. “We’re going shopping!”
Just like that, her grin fell. “We, Your Grace?” she asked cautiously.
Thorne cocked his head. “Unless ye’d rather no’?” he asked, uncertainty making his words slower.
And she hated that she’d done that.
Spending an hour in his company outside of the house truthfully sounded like a dream, but she was surprisedhewantedher. “I’d…like to join you,” she managed carefully, her gaze locked on his chin. “If you…wouldn’t mind my company.”
His snort was faint. What did it mean?
“It’ll be good for ye to visit my tailor. If I can manage to keep ye longer than the last three valets, ye’ll need to develop a personal relationship with the man.”
Wellthatdragged her attention to his eyes, which were sparkling with humor again. He wasteasingher? “Your Grace, your last three valets died horribly.”
“Aye,” he agreed cheerfully. “Try to look both ways before crossing the street, eh?”
She couldn’t help it; her laugh burst from her lips, startling him as much as her, judging from the way his eyes widened.
“Do you takeanythingseriously, Thorne?” she teased.
“Fook me, lad, ye’rebeautifulwhen ye laugh.”
The words fell between them, heavy and awkward. Except…except theyweren’t. Kit found herself swaying forward, her fingers already itching to touch him. And Thorne was holding his breath, she was certain of it.
Fook me.
That’s what she wanted. It hit her with clarity. This attraction, this arousal…she’d been fighting it for weeks now, and there was no need. Last night had proven that.
