Page 23 of A Sight to Behold
She shook it off. Absurd. She’d never seen into a person’s eye. If one thought of the eye as the window to the soul, then she’d seen so deeply into him that… “Amazing,” she whispered in awe that he’d allowed her to look inside. His eye was tearing a bit. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. How does my eye look?”
“Gorgeous.”
A deep, rumbling laughter echoed from his chest, a sound as rich and warm as the color of his eyes. “I meant, is my optic nerve healthy?” He rubbed his eyes again but then looked at her with a sleepy sort of look. His hair was mussed, and Pippa could no longer deny her attraction to him. She wanted to drive her hands through his rich hair, even if it was a bit outgrown and youthfully tousled, complementing the intensity of his smile, adding a layer of warmth and vibrancy. The messier, the better. She wished to be the reason to muss his… oh dear. He’d asked her a question.
“I don’t know how to tell.”
“Well, the spot where the red lines came together, was it bright and even?”
“Very bright.”
“It’s the optic disc. From there, nerves transmit the image I see directly through the optic canal, which is an opening in my skull, and then to the brain.”
Pippa gasped.
He gave a lop-sided smirk. “It’s the same for every human.”
“Oh,” was all she managed. He was so handsome that her stomach drummed, or was it her heart reaching as deep as her stomach? It was nauseatingly strong and yet so wonderful that she couldn’t imagine stopping.
“May I examine your eyes now? It’s been more than twelve minutes and your pupils are wide and open.” There was something else wide and open. Pippa twitched in her seat.
“Oh yes,” Pippa barely exhaled, so mesmerized was she by the handsome doctor in front of her. “Shall I get up and sit—”
“No, don’t. This will take a short moment.” He reached his palm out again, picked up the loupe, and looked into her eyes.
“Are there many medicines that cause the pupils to grow wide?” Pippa asked while he was close, and she felt his gaze his trailing over hers.
“Yes, many medicines and also natural responses.”
“Like what?”
He set the loupe aside as if he’d finished. “Shock, fear, extreme happiness.” He swallowed and she noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned back and came into better focus. “Arousal.” He held her gaze. And she looked, blinking only a few times. She could have sworn that his pupils were quite large, taking over most of the brown rings of his eyes.
“Am I scaring you?” she asked since his pupils were certainly wide and black. And he hadn’t dripped any belladonna inhiseyes.
“Not at all,” he said with a low voice. The message was clear, but he made it even clearer when he leaned back with almost a cocky stare and trailed his eyes over her face, along her neck, and to her chest.
Pippa shivered under his gaze. She should have been alarmed, but it felt delicious. No, she felt delicious, as if she were a delectable pastry that he wanted to eat, and she’d be honored to serve that purpose.
The moment stretched out and Pippa felt the heat rising to her cheeks but then the moment ended.
Then he broke the stare and cleared his throat. “I think you will need eyeglasses.” Pippa pursed her lips. “My sister, Wendy, can fit you for a pair of your choice.” He got up as if he had somewhere else to be. “It was a pleasure, Lady Pemberton. I’m glad your eyes are so beautiful—ahem, healthy.” He shook his head and clutched his hand against his chest as he cleared his throat. Was this voice cracking? “Good day.” He left.
Pippa stood agog.
Not because he left but because the throbbing feeling from her heart had settled down low.
And it had grown so strong, she couldn’t ignore it.
Chapter Twelve
The day afterthe earl’s surgery, Nick took the carriage to Brunswick House Upon Thames. It was a beautiful estate. Perched majestically on the banks of the river, the Earl of Langley’s ancestral home donned an imposing façade whispering tales of aristocratic elegance. The entrance, flanked by towering Corinthian columns, opened into a grand marble hallway. Although it rarely made any sense for an oculist to make house calls, it had gone without saying that Nick would tend to the earl’s bandages during his recovery.
But when the earl’s butler stood in the doorway, apparently expecting him, Nick felt a pinch of nervousness. “Doctor Folsham, good day,” the tall man in livery said without changing his mien.
“Good day, Mr. Sutton. How do you do?”
