at it the day we met at Hatchards.’
Her hands fell to her lap, still holding the book. ‘You remember that?’
He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. ‘I also remember your maid’s love of gothic tales, so you might want to consider hiding it from her.’
Thunder boomed in the distance.
‘That is probably a wise suggestion.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Have you read it?’
He shook his head and leaned back. ‘No. However, I purchased a copy for myself as well and thought to begin it tonight.’
This time thunder shook the room, and Katrina glanced at the closest window. Rain poured down the panes, obstructing the view of the street. ‘It does appear to be an ideal day to read such a tale. It would be a shame not to take advantage of this atmosphere. Would you like to begin reading it now?’
‘You mean together?’
‘Certainly. Unless I am keeping you from a pressing engagement?’
‘I’m intrigued by your suggestion. How do you propose we begin?’
‘I suppose each of us could read silently, if you find that acceptable?’ It might prove difficult to concentrate on the words if she had to listen to his deep voice read them.
He nodded, and then his eyes widened as she lifted her delicate chair and placed it next to the settee.
‘I do not believe I have ever witnessed a lady moving furniture before. You do have other servants, do you not?’
‘Of course. But I am fully capable of moving this chair, and it would have delayed our enjoyment if we’d had to wait for them.’ She settled herself into the chair and smiled over at him.
‘You do realise you could sit here on the settee with me? There is room for both of us,’ he said.
Thunder boomed again. ‘No, I do not believe that would be a wise idea.’ He smelled heavenly—like clean soap and leather.
‘You are next to me now.’
But this way there was no risk of her caressing his arm or making a cake of herself in any other way. ‘I am already settled quite nicely here. Please—won’t you open to the first page so we may begin?’
Lyonsdale arched his brow, appearing every inch the aristocrat he was. ‘So I shall be the one to hold the book?’
‘You are the man. I thought it was your chivalrous obligation to hold the book while I read.’
‘But I am a duke, so I thought you would be holding the book for me,’ he said with amusement in his eyes.
‘Yes, but I am an American. We believe that every man is created equal.’
His gaze raked her body. ‘But you are not a man.’
‘You’ve noticed.’
‘It has not escaped my notice.’
Katrina found the room suddenly quite warm, and she smiled at him through her lashes.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Very well. I will be your chivalrous bookstand.’
She handed him the first book of the three-volume edition. ‘I will be very grateful.’
‘Will you show me how grateful?’
‘What did you have in mind? I could make you more tea?’
‘Not exactly what I was thinking.’
‘I shall have biscuits sent up.’
By the time Wilkins arrived with a plate of biscuits Katrina was leaning over the armrest of the settee, her chin almost resting on Lyonsdale’s shoulder. The Duke was actually reclining back on the sofa in a most inelegant pose, with his legs crossed. Their heads were almost touching and they were reading from the same book, completely unaware of the butler’s presence.
The two engrossed readers remained that way for over an hour. When they finally stopped reading for the day Lyonsdale closed the book and stared straight ahead, chewing his lower lip. It was proving impossible for Katrina to take her eyes off that soft skin.
‘I must confess I have never read anything quite like that in my life,’ he commented, still appearing very relaxed in his reclined pose.
He twisted his head towards her and she rushed her gaze up to meet his. There was a twinkle in his green eyes, and she was positive he had caught her pining for his lips.
‘Have you?’ he asked.
‘Hmm...’ she managed to utter thoughtfully, not having any notion of what he’d said.
Lyonsdale grinned. ‘I asked if you’d ever read anything like this. I certainly haven’t.’
‘No, I’ve haven’t either. Thank you for purchasing it for me.’
The rain still pelted against the windowpanes and the room echoed with the soft ticking of the mantel clock. He leaned his head closer to her.
Oh, dear, he was going to kiss her!
Katrina’s breath caught in her throat and she spun her head towards Meg.
Her wonderfully discreet maid still appeared engrossed in her needlework.
‘Meg, perhaps you would like to get some tea for yourself,’ she called out.
Raising her head from her mending, Meg shifted her gaze between her mistress and the Duke. She had been Katrina’s maid since Katrina was fifteen and Meg twenty-six. They had been together almost ten years, and Katrina knew her well enough to see that Meg wasn’t certain if she should leave Katrina alone with Lyonsdale.
Katrina gave her an encouraging nod and Meg placed her mending aside and slowly stood.
‘I will not be long,’ Meg said, curtsying and leaving the room without closing the door.
When Katrina turned back to Lyonsdale she noticed his satisfied grin. ‘I simply sent her for some tea because she has been sitting by that window for hours. She needed a respite.’
He raised both his hands. ‘I did not say a word.’
‘Would you care for more tea?’
His gaze dropped to her lips. ‘What I really want is to kiss you before your maid returns.’
Pointing her finger at him, Katrina let out an exasperated breath. ‘I did not send her away so you could kiss me.’
His brow wrinkled in confusion. ‘You truly do not want me to kiss you?’
She should never have sent Meg away. Lyonsdale was much too charming. Kissing him would be a great mistake. They had
