You. I fancy you.
Difficult to admit but entirely true.
Charles held up the first book. “Secrets of Crop Rotation.” Showed her the second. “Arable Farming Methods.”
“Fascinating, I’m sure.”
“There is property in Lincolnshire I’m convinced would be a good investment for Drew and Hester. Blackbird Heath should be growing more than potatoes and cabbages. Was that Mr. Healey I caught sight of?”
“He was picking up a book for Lord Kenebruke, who has been ill,” she said. “Has he really disrupted your dealings with his uncle so terribly that you cannot at least mute your dislike of him?”
Charles shrugged not willing to admit that his animosity of Healey had more now to do with her than Kenebruke. “He pretends knowledge he doesn’t have, treating Kenebruke as if he were addled and incapable of making a decision, which is not the case. But I do know the earl has been ill.”
“He is a bit overprotective given Kenebruke’s age; I’ll agree.” Her brow wrinkled slightly. “I do not know what sort of venture you’ve proposed to Kenebruke, nor do I need to, but have you considered Mr. Healey doesn’t understand how the situation is beneficial? To both his uncle and the estate.” She cocked her head. “And ultimately Mr. Healey?”
“Impossible. How could he not.”
“Sometimes a person cannot see what is clear before them,” her voice grew quiet. “They are far too close and thus blinded. You might point out,gently, that he is likely to reap the rewards of your business venture, far more and much longer than Lord Kenebruke.”
Kenebruke had mentioned the same. And if it wasn’t for Aurora, perhaps Charles would have looked far kinder on the earl’s nephew.
“Mr. Healey isn’t as intelligent as you, Worth.” She gave him a rueful smile. “And you are both aware of it. Mr. Healey much more so than you. It probably makes him antagonistic toward your business venture with his uncle. He’s trying to provehimself. And no, Mr. Healey would never stoop to discussing business matters with me. A young lady.” She snorted derisively. “He’s far too polite.”
“I will consider your advice. It’s rather sound. Perhaps Healey should discuss business matters with you. I know I would.”
A wry smile pulled at her lips as her fingers lazily caressed one of the tomes in front of her. “Good.” Aurora stepped into a patch of sunlight, the chestnut of her hair glittering with strands of red-gold.
Charles drew in a slow, agonizing breath, considering that slender hand on him and not the books. He dreamt of her touch when he lay in bed alone at night. Recalled the sensation of her skin. Wanted her beside him.
He found Aurora to be the most beautiful of creatures, not only in appearance, but because of her strength. Her determination. She’d survived Dunnings and the taint of her family’s name to become—well, the sort of young lady who propositioned a rake like him.
“I can still taste you on my tongue,” the whisper came from the depths of his soul, rolling from his lips before he could stop. “Feel your softness clutching my fingers. Hear you moaning my name.”
A sound, part distress, mostly desire, came from her. “Worth.”
Stepping closer before he could think better of it and flee, Charles caged her lush form along the wall. Lowering his chin, the tip of his nose glided along the edge of her cheek. “Page nine,” he murmured. “I think chapter one. How to arouse with barely a touch.”
“I’ve returned the book.” Aurora’s lips parted softly. “You could be making that up.”
“But I’m not.” Charles very carefully inhaled along the side of Aurora’s neck, lips grazing the honeysuckle-scented skin. She smelled so luscious, so wonderfully feminine, and soft. He moved along the modest neckline of her dress, barely touching the lace, his tongue flicking out to taste the barely visible curve of her breast.
“Your tongue,” she breathed, arching her back. “Does that constitute touch?”
He lifted his chin, delving into the sensitive spot beneath Aurora’s left ear, where a tiny bit of jet dangled from the lobe. “Possibly.”
Her breathing grew strained, the mounds of her breasts pressing against her bodice, stretching the fabric.
Taking the jet between his teeth, Worth tugged gently before using his tongue to trace the outline of her ear.
Aurora’s fingers clutched at his coat.
“No. Palms against the wall.” His voice was rough. “Barely a touch. My touch.” Charles didn’t care that they were in Tate’s, where anyone could come across them. He had the inclination to raise her skirts, search beneath those bloody petticoats while she moaned.
“I miss you.” The words came tumbling from her as he nipped at the lobe of her ear. “I know I should not. That you only indulged me and sought to keep me from ruination.”
Charles worshipped that plump bit of flesh, toying with it as if he were still buried between her thighs.
“You’ve never allowed me to give you pleasure, Worth,” she panted. “As if not doing so was some sort of penance. Yours, not mine.”
