Page 90 of Tempting the Reclusive Duke
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Morrison left early, citing dinner with his family, and suddenly they were alone as golden evening light slanted through the windows.
"You could stay again," Adrian said casually, not looking up from his book. "For dinner. To celebrate signing the contract."
"The contract I haven't actually signed yet?"
"A minor detail." He set aside his book, giving her his full attention. "Stay anyway."
She should refuse. They'd been testing boundaries all week, dancing closer to lines that, once crossed, couldn't be uncrossed. But the thought of returning to her empty rooms when she could be here, with him, talking and laughing and pretending this was their everyday life...
"Just dinner," she said.
"Of course." But his smile suggested he knew as well as she did that 'justdinner' was becoming a flimsy fiction.
This time, dinner was served in his private dining room, a more intimate space that spoke of family rather than formality. The table was small enough that their knees brushed beneath it, each accidental touch sending sparks through her.
"Tell me about your childhood," Adrian said as they ate. "What made young Eveline fall in love with dead languages?"
"My father," she said, smiling at the memory. "He was a country vicar with a passion for classics. He used to read me Homer as bedtime stories, translating as he went. I thought all children fell asleep to tales of Odysseus."
"Lucky children if they did. My bedtime stories were usually about duty and proper behaviour." His expression turned rueful. "The weight of the dukedom started early."
"Is that why you hide behind sarcasm? Protection from all that weight?"
"Partially." He took a sip of wine, considering. "Also because I discovered early that if you mock things first, others can't use them to hurt you."
"But it also keeps people at distance."
"Most people deserve to be kept at distance." He reached across the table to take her hand. "You're the exception. You've always been the exception."
"Since that first day in Hatchard's?"
"Since you looked at me like I was personally responsible for the poor organizational principles of the entire British Library." His thumb traced patterns on her palm. "I went home that day and couldn't stop thinking about the fierce young woman who dared lecture a duke about proper cataloguing methods."
"I didn't know you were a duke then."
"Would it have mattered?"
She considered. "Probably not. The books were still improperly shelved."
He laughed, bringing her hand to his lips. "And that’s why I love you. Books matter more than titles."
"Speaking of books," she said, trying to ignore the way his mouth against her skin made her pulse race, "I should get back to Ovid. If I'm to meet Cadwell's deadlines..."
"Ovid can wait." He stood, drawing her up with him. "Dance with me."
"There's no music."
"We'll improvise." He pulled her into his arms, beginning to sway gently. "Hum that song again."
"Adrian..."
"Please?"
She couldn't refuse him anything when he looked at her like that. Softly, she began to hum, and they moved together in the candlelit room, a slow dance to barely remembered music.
"This is dangerous," she whispered as he pulled her closer.
"Everything about us is dangerous." His hand splayed across her back, warm through the fabric of her dress. "That's what makes it irresistible."
