Page 13 of The Spaniard's Wedding Revenge

That was what had got her into trouble the previous night, hadn’t it? She’d been totally caught up in the ‘art’ she’d been creating on his limo door and hadn’t run when she should have.

What would that attention be like it bed? Would she look at you that way? Would she touch you like—?

Cristiano jerked his offending thoughts out of the gutter, irritated with himself. Perhaps he needed to contact those two lovely women he’d been going to take home the previous night and finish what they’d started. Certainly he’d have to do something with his wayward groin—especially if he kept having thoughts like these about Leonie.

He shifted against the doorframe and said finally, ‘Find some interesting reading material,gatita?’

The duke’s deep, rich voice slid over Leonie’s skin like an unexpected caress, making her jump in shock, then freeze in place, the book she’d been reading still clutched in her hands. She stared at the shelves in front of her, every sense she had focused on the voice that had come from behind her.

A small cold thread wound its way through her veins.

Her employer had caught her reading on the job on her very first day. Not a good look. Ugh—what had she been thinking?

Everything had been going extremely well since he’d left her the night before, too. She’d availed herself of the shower, even though everything in her had wanted to spend hours soaking in the vast white marble bath. But it had been very late and she’d needed some sleep. So she’d given her body and hair a decent scrub before falling into that outrageously comfortable bed naked, since she hadn’t been able to bear putting on her filthy clothes again—not when she was so clean.

Her sleep had been fitful, due to the comfortableness of the bed—she was used to sleeping on hard surfaces covered with nothing but pieces of cardboard or, if she was lucky and had managed to get a night in a shelter, a hard mattress covered by a thin blanket—and she’d kept waking up. Her sleep was always light, in case of threats, but even so she’d felt okay when she’d woken this morning.

There had been a set of clothes left outside her door, which she’d snatched up and put on, glorying in the feel of soft, clean cotton against her skin. Coffee and a fresh warm croissant had been left along with the clothes, and she’d devoured both in seconds. She had still been hungry, but then Camille had come, a little less scornful than she’d been the night before, and given her an introduction to her duties.

There’d been no time for more food.

She was supposed to have spent no more than half an hour in the library—concentrating on dusting the shelves, since the duke was most particular about them—before moving on to the formal sitting room next door. But she had a horrible suspicion that she’d been in here longer than half an hour. And she hadn’t even touched the shelves yet.

She’d just got very interested in some of the books, and hadn’t been able to resist taking one off the shelf and opening it up.

Back when she’d been smaller, when her mother had still been around, she’d used to love going to the library and reading, and books were something she’d missed on the streets. And back further still, when she’d been very young, her father had read to her—

But, no, she wasn’t going to think of her father.

She needed to be more alert to her surroundings, that was what she needed to be, because this wretched duke was always sneaking up on her.

Quickly, she closed the book and put it back. ‘I wasn’t reading,’ she said, picking up her cloth and polish. ‘I was just polishing the shelf.’ She ran the cloth over the already gleaming wood a couple of times. ‘It’s very dirty.’

‘Which book was it?’

Again that voice—a deep, dark purr that felt like soft velvet brushing against her skin. It made her shiver and she didn’t like it...not one bit.

Clutching her cleaning equipment, Leonie got to her feet and turned around, only to have the words she’d been going to say die in her throat.

The duke was leaning one powerful shoulder casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He was in perfectly tailored black suit trousers today, and a pristine white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong wrists and sleekly muscled forearms. It was plain, simple clothing that set off his sheer physical beauty to perfection, accentuating the aristocratic lines of his face, the straight black brows, the sharply carved mouth and the deep emerald glitter of his eyes.

He seemed different from the man he’d been the night before. There was an energy about him that hadn’t been present the previous evening. It was oddly compelling and that made her wary.

Everything about this man made her wary.

He raised a brow in that imperious way he had. ‘You were going to say something?’

Leonie was irritated to feel a blush rising in her cheeks, because she had a feeling he’d noticed her reaction to him and was amused by it.

‘No,’ she said, wishing she had her knife on her. Because although he hadn’t made a move towards her, she felt the threat he presented all the same. ‘Is there anything you need...uh...monsieur?’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to sayYour Grace.

A smile curled his mouth, though it didn’t look like an amused smile. More as if he was...satisfied.

‘Not at all. Just coming to see how my newest staff member is settling in. Is everything to your liking?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She kept a tight grip on her cloth and polish. ‘Camille said she would find me another room to sleep—’

‘I think not,’ he interrupted, with the casual arrogance of a man who was used to his word being law. ‘You’ll stay in the room you’re in.’

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