Page 31 of Irresistible
“Always. Think of what we do as a game of chess. You must always pay attention to the pieces on the board. We’ve no idea how many servants there are—or how they are aligned.”
“Simply counting them won’t tell us the latter,” she said.
“No, so we must assume they are not friendly. That is the always the safest path.”
She nodded, her brow furrowing gently as it did when he imparted information such as this. It always appeared as if she were deeply pondering what he said.
“You listen in a way that is unparalleled,” he remarked.
Her gaze snapped to his. “What do you mean?”
“You pay close attention, as though you really want to learn.” He was surprised to find he was enjoying teaching her. If this was to be his last mission, it would certainly be memorable. For so many reasons. “I suppose I’m used to people thinking they already know things.”
“You must talk to more men than women,” she said wryly.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Probably.” Definitely when it came to his work.
“Anything else I should know about talking to Mrs. Farr?” she asked.
He leaned forward in the chair, catching her gaze. “Don’t act suspicious, meaning you can’t just barrage her with questions. Make it conversational and easy.”
“I can do that.”
“You could even tell her we are thinking of purchasing our own coastal paradise, and you’d like to understand what it takes to run such a place.”
She narrowed one eye at him. “You’ve done this before.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Once or twice.”
They fell silent a moment, both looking out at the sea. At length, she said, “Do you suppose they’re actually writing poetry on the beach?” That’s what the Chesmores had said they liked to do. Most days, they took an outing, either on foot or in their gig, and wrote their own poetry or sketched what they saw—whatever captured their fancy that day.
“What else would they be doing?” He knew what came to his mind given their excessive affection for one another, but wasn’t sure that was what she’d be thinking too. He was fairly certain she was inexperienced. That didn’t, however, mean she was ignorant.
“Gathering information to pass to the French? Drafting coded messages with that information? Thinking of new and more nauseating pet names for each other?”
Dougal snorted. Either she hadn’t thought what he had—that the Chesmores were shagging each other silly—or she didn’t want to say it aloud. Either was fine by him. Avoiding conversations about sex seemed a very good idea given how attractive he found her. And the fact that they were sharing a bed. Though it was as wide as the Thames, he was more than aware of her presence.
“Speaking of that, you almost provoked me to laugh when you called me hummingbird.”
“I thought it was better than pigeon. Was I wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s still funny. Can we stop with the names? Or just pick one and stick with it so I’m not thrown off?”
“My apologies. I am not used to having a partner.” He supposed he was an amateur in that respect, just as she was. “I will endeavor not to cause you to break character. Hummingbird you shall be from now on.”
She shook her head with a faint smile. “I suppose I shall continue to call you my stag.”
“The Chesmores seem to like it when we are as affectionate and intimate as they are. Do you see how Mrs. Chesmore in particular seems to shine with delight?”
“I do,” Jess said with a resigned sigh. “I find it strange, but we must do what is required.”
Dougal decided it was the perfect moment to further discuss that expectation. “It may very well be necessary for me to do more than put my hand on your shoulder or stroke your arm.”
She looked out the window once more. “So I gather. Last night, you kissed my temple.”
He had, and she hadn’t flinched. “Yes, that sort of thing. It seems you are well prepared for that, then.”
“I’m trying to be.”
