Page 85 of Her Beast

Norris handed him his hat and a thicker pair of fur-lined gloves that he would pull over the Limerick gloves when he went outside.

He was stupid to be going out in freezing weather, but he had a desire to see Julia’s lovely, rosy-cheeked face against the stars. At least the little you could see of them on a polluted London night.

Malcolm strode to her chambers through empty, quiet hallways rather than using the much shorter private corridor, not wanting to run the risk of popping out of the wall where she might see him.

Kemp opened the door at his knock and dropped a graceful curtsey. “Good evening, sir. She’ll just be—”

“No, she is ready now!” Julia came rushing from the other room, her lips and eyes smiling.

Malcolm experienced the same feeling he always did when he saw her: as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Do you like it?” she asked and then spun in a circle, sending the hem of the heavy coat flying and clipping one of the side tables. A knickknack of some sortthuddedto the carpet.

“Whoops! I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“You look magnificent, Julia.” Malcolm’s voice was so hoarse with suppressed desire that he sounded like an old man.

Fuck. She was bloody beautiful.

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“May I ask where we are going?” Julia asked when they came to the steam-operated lift.

Malcolm opened the door and ushered her inside. “You may ask,” he said, smirking as he turned the dial to the third floor.

She rolled her eyes. “Very droll. You are as bad as my younger brothers.Whereare we going?”

“First, we are going to an early dinner.”

“And after?”

“It is a surprise.”

“Malcolm, don’t be cruel.”

God, he liked the sound of his name on her tongue.

And helovedhearing her beg.

The soft bell dinged and the small room stopped moving. Malcolm opened both doors and waited for her to pass through.

“Ooh, you’re taking me to Barton’s. However did you get a table? I’ve heard it is very exclusive.”

“I know the owner.”

She laughed.

Malcolm nodded to the maître d who stepped out to welcome them. “Hello, William.”

“Good evening, Mr. Barton, Miss Smith, your table is ready, sir.”

“Smith?” Julia whispered as Malcolm waved away the attendant and helped her out of her coat.

“I thought it best to give you an alias,” he whispered back, his tone as teasing as hers. “Our table is by the window,” he added, allowing himself the luxury of laying a hand over the small of her back as he guided her across the room.

“There is nobody else here,” she said, looking around her.

“I might have reserved the entire restaurant tonight,” he admitted.

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