“Indeed it does.” He paused. “And were I to kiss you, I should begin by stepping very close to you.” He moved closer and stared down at her, close enough to see the satisfaction in her eyes fade to uncertainty. “So that I may take you in my arms.”
“No doubt. Go on.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gently drew her closer. “I would then gaze into your eyes, your endless blue eyes that could hold a man, even a man of strength, spellbound. Lost, if you will.”
“Nonsense,” she said weakly. “They‟re simply blue.”
“There‟s nothing simple about them. They are the color of a mountain lake, the calm waters before the storm. Eyes that carry within them secrets, and promises of something wonderful for a moment or forever.”
“Utter rubbish.” Nonetheless her arms slipped around his neck and he bit back a smile
“Then my gaze would slip to your lips.” He glanced at her mouth. She bit her bottom lip in the nervous manner he had already noticed, and his stomach tightened. “Just for a moment, just long enough to anticipate the soft, ripe warmth of them against my own. To wonder at the taste of you. Will you taste of bold, erotic spices or will you taste as sweet and delicious as new picked berries? Or as intoxicating as champagne? Anticipation, Gabriella.” His gazed shifted and locked with hers. “Anticipation in a first kiss is most important.”
She swallowed hard. “How absurd.”
“And then I would lean closer, until my senses are awash with the scent of you.” He angled his head toward hers until his lips were no more than a breath from hers. “Fresh and vaguely like lavender, with the merest touch of something more. Something exotic, unknown as yet but
exciting and completely irresistible.”
“Oh…” The word was no more than a sigh, the merest breath of air against his lips. Her eyes drifted closed.
“It would be very nearly perfection itself.”
“Yes…” Her body pressed closer to his with a movement so slight he doubted she was aware of it. But he was. “Perfection…”
He had her now. She wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss her. And he couldn‟t
remember ever wanting to kiss a woman more. But as much as he wanted this, he knew one kiss with Gabriella Montini would never be enough.
“Very nearly.” Nate drew a deep breath and summoned every bit of self-control he possessed.
“But without moonlight, it is not the kiss you promised.” He straightened and released her,
ignoring the stunned look on her face. He moved around the desk and settled in the chair. “Now then, we should get on with these.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and glared. There wasn‟t a doubt in his mind, he would pay for this.
He grinned to himself. He couldn‟t wait.
You—You—You—” Gabriella sputtered as if she couldn‟t quite catch her breath. As if she‟d
been hit in the face with a pail of cold water. Not that she was going to let him know how shocked and, well, possibly disappointed she was. As if she had wanted him to kiss her, which she certainly hadn‟t and never would. Regardless, his behavior was nothing short of dastardly.
“Nathanial Harrington, you are an arrogant ass!”
“My, my, Gabriella, your language.” He shuffled through the letters on the desk, his gaze firmly on the papers in front of him as if she hadn‟t said a word. As if she wasn‟t there!
There was nothing to be done about it. She was going to have to kill him. Slowly.
“Your brothers have obviously been a bad influence on you.”
My brother and men exactly like you. She bit back the words and drew a deep calming breath. It hadn‟t been easy to discard the manners, or rather, lack of manners, she acquired in the years spent with her brother. Propriety, especially when it came to language, had always been
something she‟d had to work at, much like any of her other studies.
“One would have thought one was back among his comrades in the deserts of Egypt,” Nathanial said mildly.
She clenched her fists by her side. “My apologies, Nathanial.”
“Accepted.”
“I am eternally sorry—”
He smiled in a benevolent manner. “Not at all.”
“—that you are such an arrogant ass.”
He glanced up at her, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I don‟t know why you‟re glaring at me like that, it‟s not as if you wanted to kiss me.”
“I‟m not glaring,” she said in a clipped tone.
“My dear Gabriella, if looks could kill, I would be lying on the floor dead by now, shot through the heart by your gaze alone.”
“That would be a very great pity.” She sniffed.
“I‟m glad you think so.”
“It would be entirely too fast.” Gabriella braced her hands on the desk and leaned toward him.
“No, you deserve something much, much slower. Tied to stakes and stretched out over a hill of African ants perhaps.”
He rose to his feet. “Tied, did you say?”
“Under the hot, blistering tropical sun.”
He planted his hands on the desk, mirroring her stance, a distinctly wicked smile on his lips.
“Naked, no doubt?”
Naked? Why on earth did he have to use the word naked? At once the image of a naked
Nathanial Harrington staked over an ant hill popped into her mind. Not that she knew exactly what an adult male would look like in that position, but between her limited experience and the paintings and sculptures she‟d seen, well, she did have a fairly vivid imagination. She pushed the thought firmly aside.
“Or perhaps torn from limb to limb by savages in the jungles of South America.”
“Savages who have first ripped my clothes to shreds, do you think?” The gleam in his eye
matched his smile.
Again a naked Nathanial Harrington filled her head, savages pulling on every limb, tattered remnants of his clothes dripping off him like icing from a cake. She winced and shook her head.
“Or…or…eaten by cannibals. Yes, that‟s exactly what you deserve.”
“Boiled alive probably.” He nodded in a solemn manner belying the look in his eye. “Naked, of course.”
“Would you stop that!” A naked Nathanial Harrington sat in a large iron pot over a fire
surrounded by cannibals. She straightened with a jerk. “Stop that this minute!”
He raised a brow. “Stop what?”
“Stop using that word!”
“What word?”
“You know what word!”
He shook his head and grinned. “I have no idea what you‟re talking about.”
She huffed. “Naked, Nathanial!” Good Lord, had she just used naked and Nathanial in the same sentence? Aloud and in front of him? “The word is naked! Naked, naked, naked!” And she
couldn‟t seem to stop. “As you well know.”
His grin widened. “The examples were yours.”
“Not the way you embellished them with…with…” She closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer
heavenward to beg for calm and to give thanks that she wasn‟t armed. “It was highly improper, most suggestive, entirely too…too intimate and…and…” Erotic, exciting, seductive. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze. “Uncomfortable.”
“Come now, Gabriella. You can‟t—” Realization dawned on Nathanial‟s face and his smile
vanished. “You are embarrassed, aren‟t you? Why, you‟re blushing again.”
“Yes, well…” The ease with which she blushed was the bane of her existence, and there didn‟t seem to be anything she could do about it. But of course she was embarrassed. Not as much by his words as by the explicit images her own mind had created. Even so, it was his fault.
“I am sorry.” He winced. “I didn‟t intend—I had no idea that you—that is to say—”
“No idea? And why not?” The words came without thinking. “Because women who break into
houses and pretend to be someone they‟re not and are every bit as clever as you, who want to restore the good name of their family and have a sense of honor, would, of course, not be the sort to be embarrassed by crass, improper comments? That such women do not deserve the common
courtesies you would give to a lady on the street? Because my family, my background, my
circumstances are not such that they warrant respect?”
It was his turn to look as if he‟d been dashed by cold water. “I assure you, Gabriella, my intent was only to tease—flirt, if you will. I never meant—”
“Enough, please.” She pushed out her hand to stop him. Where had her outburst come from? In truth she was far more annoyed than embarrassed. Just like her tendency to blush, not keeping her mouth shut when she was angry had always been another unfortunate character flaw. “Now, I must apologize.” Certainly, the differences between her family and his, her life and his, had been brought home to her last night. And yes, she might have felt a twinge of what could possibly be called resentment or even jealousy. But it was absurd. Life was what one made of it regardless of the hand one had been dealt. “Your family has been nothing but kind and generous to me, far more so than I deserve. My remarks were uncalled for.”
“No, I am to blame. I baited you, and for that I must beg your forgiveness. I am most sorry. I lost my head.” He took her hand. “In my defense, Gabriella, you should know…” He raised her hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “…you were not the only one who was disappointed.”
“I wasn‟t—” She paused, then drew a deep breath. “Your apology is accepted. I would prefer that we never bring this incident up again.”
“Oh I agree,” Nathanial said somberly, but the wicked twinkle had returned to his eye.
She stared for a moment. “I can‟t trust you at all, can I?”
“Of course you can. In most matters, I can be most trustworthy. Now, then.” He gestured at the letters. “Where do you suggest I begin?”
“Here.” She stepped to the desk, of necessity standing far too close to him than was proper. Still, they were going to work together, and her standards of what was and was not acceptable would have to change, or at least bend. She reached in front of him, her arm brushing against his.
Without warning the feel of being in his arms washed through her. She firmly set it aside. Now was not the time, nor, she amended at once, would there ever be a time. She arranged the letters in chronological order. “There are only seven. The first few came rather quickly, and as you will see, are the most lucid of the lot. The last…” She shrugged. “I suggest you read them in order.”
“Very sensible.” He sat down and picked up a letter. “This is the first?”
She nodded. He started reading, then glanced up. “Do you plan to watch me read every word?”
“Not every word.”
“It makes me most uncomfortable.” He grimaced. “This is a library, Gabriella. I would think you could find something to read. There are a great many reference works here that you might enjoy.
Or better yet, a novel.”
She scoffed. “I never read novels.”
“That explains a great deal,” he said under his breath.
“What do you mean?” She drew her brows together. “What exactly does that explain?”
“Your manner. Your attitude toward life, as it were.”
“My attitude is just fine.”
“You, Gabriella Montini, take the world entirely too seriously.”
“You don‟t know that. You don‟t know me.”
“Nonetheless.” He shrugged. “This was not difficult to ascertain.”
“Just because a woman doesn‟t leap into your arms, doesn‟t long for your embrace, doesn‟t ache to feel your lips upon hers—”
He arched a brow.
She ignored him. “Does not mean she takes the world too seriously.”
“If you say so.”
She huffed. “The world is a serious place, Nathanial Harrington.”
“Indeed it is.”
“And my life is a serious matter. My brother is dead, his reputation is shattered. I have no real family save a handful of serv—friends. And the one thing I truly wanted in my life is now—”
She blew a resigned breath. “—out of the question.”
He settled back in the chair and studied her. “What is the one thing you truly wanted?”
“It scarcely matters.” She waved off his question and wandered to a bookshelf. “As you think a novel will somehow make my manner more frivolous—”
He laughed. “I never used the word frivolous.”
She cast him a haughty glance. “It was implied.”
“I should have said…lighthearted. Yes, that‟s it.”
“My heart is anything but light at the moment, nor has it ever been.”
“What a shame,” he said softly.
“Not at all, Nathanial. It‟s simply how life is.” She turned back to the shelves. “Do you have a recommendation? As to a novel, that is?”
“Come now, Gabriella, there must be some author‟s works you like? You cannot tell me you‟ve never read a novel? Not even in a youthful misspent moment perhaps?”
“My youth was not especially misspent.” Unless one considered being dressed as a boy and
accompanying your brother from one exotic location to another on a quest for antiquities
misspent.
“Still, you must have a favorite?”
“I don‟t think so,” she said under her breath. Now that she thought about it, she couldn‟t remember ever having read an account of fiction, although surely she must have. Her brother had taught her to read, but in that employed the use of the manuals and historical references he routinely carried with him, and the Bible, of course. When she began her schooling in England, she had been made to memorize a great deal of poetry, and recalled studying the plays of Mr.
Shakespeare, but not a single work of narrative fiction came to mind.
“Not Mr. Dickens? Or Mr. Trollope or Miss Austen?”
“Apparently my education has lacked in that respect.” She perused the titles on the shelf.
“Besides, I‟ve never had the time.”
“How do you spend your time?”
“I study, Nathanial. I study ancient civilizations, history, archeology, myths, legends, and anything else that might prove useful for my brother‟s work. I have earned certificates at Queen‟s College, have already been awarded one university degree, and I continue my studies. I have as well committed to memory most of the books and papers in the Antiquities Society
library and archives.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I have an excellent memory.”
“I‟m not surprised.”