Jacobs hesitated in the doorway, as if he meant to disagree, then disappeared into the hallway.
Only Lady Emma now, standing tall in the door frame, blinking furiously. She seemed to have stopped breathing.
He reached her in two steps and guided her toward the chair across from his own at the desk. “Sit. If you faint, you won’t fall into anything hard. Or sharp.”
She waved his hands away, dislodging his help and sitting under her own power. “I’m not about to faint. I am merely… shocked. I thought never to see you again. It isyou, isn’t it? From last night?” Those last three words a whisper in that delicious burr.
He nodded.
“How absolutely mortifying.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks as a fierce blush raced across them. They, too, could bring a ship home from sea.
“I do not exaggerate when I say I know exactly how you feel.”
“Well, what a confounding turn of events. You are the Duke of Clearford, I suppose?”
“I am. And that means you are the… bloody hell.” An absolute disaster. He bit off another curse. “I apologize. For my language.”
She nodded once, slowly, her gaze locked on to him.
She could, though, looking at the knife stuck to the bullseye across the room. “Impressive, that. Am I meant to fawn over your talent or tremble at your dangerous aim? I warn you, I neither fawn nor tremble, Your Grace.” The strength had returned to her voice, the teasing good humor, too, brightening the room with memories of fresh air, moonlight, and peace.
And baser awareness. The dark and the heavy cloak she’d worn last night had hid what he now saw was a regal beauty meant to kill a man. The elegant brow, those searing eyes, the tall length of her perfectly curvy body set off to advantage by some stout yet stylish gown that covered every inch of her from neck to ankle. Covered? More accurate to say enhanced. The well-fitted gownenhancedevery inch of her from neck to ankle. And above the neck, a jaw perfect for kissing, lips any man would beg to hear his name from, those eyes, and a mess of a coiffure in shocking red. Red, then. Copper in the moonlight.
But more than that… she sparked. She demanded both attention and complete obedience. And he could imagine throwing himself at her feet.
What?
No.
She was supposed to be aspinster, long in tooth and short on charm. But she was… she was… God, she was delectable.
“Your Grace?” She tilted her head. “Did you fling your wits across the room with your blade?”
Had she just insulted him? Insultedhim?
Time to regain control from his inappropriately interested loins. The kiss must have given them hope.
He cleared his throat. “Do you often begin your new partnerships with insults?”
“Never. You inspire me.”
She inspired him. To strip off that pretty spencer she wore and—
No!Not today, loins.
They considered one another for much too long across the width of the desk.
“You are not anoldbachelor,” she finally said.
“And you are not a spinster of advanced years.”
Her pretty lips thinned. “I am, actually.”
Ha. Hilarious, that.
He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers together before him. “Let us start anew, Lady Emma. We began our acquaintanceship in a highly unusual manner, but if you are to be in my employ, we must forget—”
“I do notwork. For you or for anyone.”
