Page 46 of Irresistible
“We really just came to find a book or two.” Dougal exchanged a hooded look with Jess, assuming she had the same incredulous reaction as he had. What on earth was Gil expecting, inviting them to remain with them? It occurred to Dougal that the Chesmores might like to experiment sexually. Perhaps they regularly invited others to join them. Dougal hoped the dinner party was just a gathering fordinnerand nothing else.
“It didn’t look like that wasallyou came for,” Gil joked. He and his wife laughed, and Dougal resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Jess straightened against Dougal’s side. “If you could recommend one book, or poem—yourveryfavorite—what would you have me read?”
“That’s easy,” Gil said. “Voltaire. The poemFrom Love to Friendship, to be exact.” He put his hand to his chest. “Utterly sublime. I’m afraid I can’t offer it to you at the moment as I keep it in my chamber.”
Jess clasped her hands together and spoke eagerly, “If I could borrow it at some point, I’d love to read it.”
“Well, that copy is in French, so I don’t think it would help you,” he said with a sympathetic moue. “There’s a translated version around here somewhere. Voltaire is particularly dear to me because my great-grandmother met him in France.” He said the last with more than a bit of pride.
His family was from France? “Is that why you’re so fond of all things French?” Dougal asked. “Because your family hails from there?”
“I do realize we have not been on the best of terms with them, but that is my heritage,” he said with a slight shrug.
Dougal stored his information, then looked to Mary. “What would you recommend?”
She tapped her finger against her lips.
“You are most distracting, my gosling,” Gil teased before pulling her against him. “It’s Wordsworth, of course.”
Mary giggled. “Of course. Let me just fetch it. I was reading it earlier.” She had to disengage herself from her husband, who pretended to hold her against him. He let her go with a jovial laugh, and she skipped away from him.
Dougal stared at their antics, marveling at the joy they shared.
After plucking up a thin volume from a table near a chaise situated by the windows looking out to the sea, Mary brought it to Jess. “Here you are. Some of my favorites. It has Coleridge too.”
“Thank you.” Jess took the book with both hands and held it to her chest. “I look forward to reading it.”
Dougal looked to Jess. “Shall we, my hummingbird?”
She nodded and said good night to their hosts as Dougal escorted her from the library.
They didn’t say a word until they were in their chamber and Dougal had closed the door firmly. He leaned back against the wood as Jess went to the middle of the room, between the end of the bed and the seating area before the hearth.
Swinging around, she stared at him a moment, her expression one of disbelief. Then she promptly burst into laughter. Dougal wondered if she’d lost her wits. But only for a moment, because he then laughed with her. Deep, bellyaching guffaws that made his eyes water.
Jess collapsed into one of the chairs by the fire, still holding the book. Dougal took the other chair and struggled to draw in a breath.
When they’d finally recovered, she wiped her hand over her eyes. “What was so funny?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, regaining his composure. “I suppose it was Gil inviting us to stay and snuggle with them?”
“Do you think they meant for us to snuggle all together or that we should watch them snuggle? Or that we should snuggle separately?” She shook her head, still smiling. “They are the most interesting couple I’ve ever encountered. I can’t fault them, for they are undeniably happy.”
“I know, and I agree. However, it’s…odd. They seem to have no care for propriety.”
“Perhaps because they are in the privacy of their home?” Jess suggested. “I wonder how they behave in public.”
“I would say we’ll see at the dinner party, but that is also in their house, and they don’t seem to mind what their guests think.” Dougal couldn’t find fault with that. To know oneself and be comfortable in one’s skin was an enviable existence. Dougal hoped he knew himself, but after years of disguises and secrecy, he wasn’t sure that was true.
Jess’s eyes rounded, and she fixed a horrified stare on him. “What if the other guests are like them?”
Dougal snorted. “I wondered the same thing. Or something like it, anyway. I suppose we shall find out.” He kept wanting to look at her neck, to the spot he’d kissed.
“Why did you kiss my neck?” she asked, startling him.
“I, ah, because I’d closed the doors. It might have seemed peculiar—not that we were there, but that the doors were closed.”
