Page 111 of A Scot Is Not Enough
“What has my face done but gain unwanted male attention?”
“You have my attention.”
“And if I looked like a gargoyle, would you be in my bedchamber?”
His surprise was reflected in her mirror, a man snared by her loveliness and charm.
“You are more than your face.”
She averted her eyes. Yes, he loved her face, the slopes, the light, the pertness of her chin. Her face was her calling card, the doorway to her intelligence,her wit, herjoie de vivre. But love, he was learning, was not about taking, but about giving.
What could he offer her right now?
Water dripped down her temples. She swiped it with the back of her hand. “I’ve been old since I was twelve. I knew then how to get what I wanted, if not my face my sauciness would...” She hesitated, the mood in her bedchamber sobering. “I’ve never been the most beautiful woman in a room, but I’ve always aimed to be the most interesting.” Pained eyes speared him. “But what if who I am is not enough?”
“Enough for what?”
“Just... enough.”
Her voice was a sad wisp. She was slipping into a fog of vagaries. He couldn’t force her to crack them open, but he could lure her away from them with tantalizing bait. He’d held up a book, and she read aloud the title on the spine.
“The Female Quixote or The Adventures of Arabella.What do you want to do with that?” As soon as the words were out, a faint smile quirked. “Forgive my banal question. I know what to do with a book; I’m not sure your purpose in bringing it to my bedchamber.”
“My purpose? To please you, of course.”
Her brows shot to her hairline. “You don’t want to engage in a more invigorating activity?”
He traced a wet tendril stuck to her cheek. “One come hither look from you, and I’m your partner for all manner of invigoration.”
A tantalizing hook was dangled.
“But I don’t think you need bed sport,” he said quietly.
“And what do you think I need?”
“Book sport.” He grinned at astonishment wiping her clean. “I think you need to recline in bed and be read to.”
She touched her lips, huffing softly. The sparkle in her eyes was returning.
“Those are the most seductive words a man could say.”
He drew a line on her collarbone, absurdly happy at hitting a bull’s-eye with her. The Scotswoman’s skin was like silk in the amber light. It was a joy being in the same room with her, clothed or not.
“The idea came from my first night here. I saw a pamphlet on your bed.”
Amused suspicion clouded her features. “Did Jenny, perchance, help with your selection?”
“How could you think that? Your maid is barely civil with me.”
She pulled a pin from her stomacher. “It just so happens that you have selected my favorite book.”
“Did I?”
She hummed her “yes” while freeing another pin from her gown. He tucked the book to his side, deciding not to tell her Fielding applauded the book. The magistrate had written an article about it in theCovent-Garden Journal. But the outside world had no business here. The cozy bedchamber was their haven.
He was stepping over discarded stockings when she asked, “Why aren’t you naked yet?”
Glee brightened her face. He tossed the book on her bed and rapid undressing commenced. Who was he to refuse naked bedtime reading? Shoes were kicked off, coat, waistcoat, and breeches dropped in a pile.Petticoats and panniers topped the mess. A dash of laughter and bumping bodies went with it.
