She snorted. “How? You’re too much of a gentleman to strike me back.”
“You want to test that?” He looked up at her. “You seem to have a very white-washed view of me. When I think, in reality, you don’t know me at all.”
“Really? Now you’re trying to convince me you’re, what? A scoundrel?”
He shrugged.
She gave him a pitying smile. “Go back to your cipher, Mr. Scoundrel.”
Duncan almost did just that. But then he set down the pen.
“Are you finished?” she asked.
“No,” he said. He’d spent the last couple of days playing the scoundrel. But he didn’t have to play the role to know that a scoundrel never did what was expected.
“Why are you stopping? It will take me three days to decipher a code in Cologne.”
“Rubbish.” He straightened and leaned toward her. “You could do it in two and a half.”
“You’re very amusing.”
“Am I?”
He leaned closer, and she licked her lips, her gaze darting to his mouth. Had it always been this easy? Could he have kissed her any time? She seemed to welcome it. He reached out, pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and slid his hand around the back of her neck.
“What are you—”
He leaned forward and skimmed his lips over hers. She went very still, and he could all but feel the tension vibrating through her. But she hadn’t slapped him. She hadn’t pulled away. He came back for more, pressing his mouth against hers. He might have left it there, but hewasplaying the scoundrel. He flicked the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, and she inhaled sharply.
“Duncan?” she said, her voice shaky.
“Hmm?” He’d known if he could just kiss her once, she’d fall in love with him. This was it.
“You’re on fire.”
“I know.” He bent to kiss her again.
“Duncan! You areon fire!”
The scent of burning wool penetrated the haze of his desire and he jumped back and slammed his charred sleeve against her counterpane. His coat was only singed, having come too close to the candle she held. He was unhurt, but it was enough to break the mood.
Enough to make the entire room reek of smoke.
Lucy coughed lightly.
“I’ll get the window.”
“I’ll do it.” She handed him the candle. “You finish the code.”
She went to the window, unlatched it, and pushed it open. Duncan tried to go back to the letter and the code, but his vision was blurry. How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d just kissed Lucy Galloway? He’d been dreaming of doing little else for the past eighteen months. Now it had finally happened, and she was standing at the window as though it were perfectly normal. Well, two could play at that game. Besides, a scoundrel wouldn’t want to talk about what had just happened. A scoundrel, such as he, wouldn’t give it another thought. A scoundrel wouldn’t close his eyes and remember the feel of her soft lips, the scent of tea on her breath, or the way she had leaned into him when he’d come back for more.
And she’d know he was thinking about it if he didn’t return to the task of decoding.
Focus. Focus. Focus. Replace the E there and invert the third word...
“Duncan.”
“Not right now,” he said.
