Page 22 of Marigold and the Marquess
One thing for certain, he would not underestimate this girl again. She had saved him yesterday from a knife-wielding villain, and now again today had saved him from himself.
She was far more intelligent than he or others gave her credit for.
There were two guards at the entrance to the private library whose job it was to check everyone coming in and those going out to make certain nothing of value was removed. But those guards remained at the entrance and no one was actually in the library at present except for him and Marigold.
She pointed out the Da Vinci drawings and several of his original texts.
She pointed out some writings on papyrus and one or two illuminated manuscripts prepared by monks in some alpine monastery over five hundred years ago.
She next took him along a row of shelves filled with magnificently bound volumes. They were mostly works of archeological or botanical significance. “Well, that’s about everything to see in here,” Marigold remarked. “I’m sure the duke would not mind your returning at your leisure if you wish to explore further. Shall we go?”
He held her back.
She looked up at him. “Would you like another moment? We can stay here as long as you need. Are you sure you cannot tell me what happened to you downstairs, Leo?”
“It was nothing, just a bit of my past catching up to me.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Do not ask me to talk about it.”
“I won’t. You’ll tell me whenever you are ready.”
He would never be ready to talk about those lost years. The anger and bitterness were still too raw and would always fester in his mind until he had his revenge. Even if he could talk about those years of captivity, he did not wish to shove that horror onto Marigold. The world needed innocent rays of sunshine like her.
“A man could drown in the fathomless pools of your eyes,” he whispered raggedly.
Surprise flickered in her gorgeous orbs. “Leo, are you flirting with me?”
He laughed. “No, the thought just popped into my head. I did not mean to say it aloud.”
Men like him did not flirt.
They simply took what they wanted, and he seemed to be desperately wanting Marigold at the moment. She was nothing like most women of his acquaintance, and he was not certain if this was good or bad. He usually engaged with women who were experienced sexually, had done a bit of traveling thereby gaining a bit of sophistication, and who might be considered more classically beautiful than this girl.
Marigold even had dimples when she smiled.
And those damn adorable elf ears.
“Leo, I–”
Did she have to be so temptingly sweet? “Stop calling me Leo.”
“I will not. And do not growl at me. Admit it, you like me.” She leaned smugly against the bookshelves, showing no fear as he took another step closer.
“Marigold, don’t you know it is dangerous to prod a lion?” He placed his hands on either side of her body to hold her against the bookshelves. He meant to intimidate her, but only a little. He kept his hold loose because he wanted her to know she could move away if she wished.
To his dismay, she did not attempt to move away. Instead, she wrapped her delicate fingers around his lapels and nudged him closer, taking too much delight in his nearness. “How dangerous, Leo?”
He emitted another soft growl and moved closer, pinning her against his body so that she could not escape unless she pushed him away.
To his frustration, she did not seem inclined to do so. A shudder ran through him as his chest was now pressed against her lusciously soft bosom.
Blessed saints.
What was he doing?
This was not at all in his plans.
Well, he could forget those blasted plans for the moment.
He kissed her softly on the neck, inhaling the cinnamon scent of her or whatever that evocative mix was, perhaps nutmeg, raisins, plum pudding, warming fire, sweet memories he’d lost during his ordeal and she was now bringing back to him. “Push me away, Marigold,” he said in a raw whisper.
