usual. Still half-asleep, he roused himself to look at the doorway, anticipating that Giddy had decided to insert himself into affairs. As usual. But instead of the overbearing earl, Miss Bittlesworth glided into the room as though entering a ball. Her smile was sweet and dimpled while her words slashed as quick and true as her sword.
"I wouldn't have expected you to be a slugabed, your grace. Yet I see your butler was correct. Have you really been in here for days?"
Quince cleared his throat. "My former butler."
Miss Bittlesworth went to the window and wrenched back the curtains, allowing a stream of sunlight in. Although horribly bright, it also served to highlight her figure under the flowing muslin gown. "I'm sorry, your grace?" she asked.
"My former butler. If my man can't stop one tiny woman from disturbing me then he shall have to find employment elsewhere."
She turned and sailed toward him with that pleasant smile firmly in place, stopping mere inches from the edge of the bed. "Don't blame him for meeting a woman who always gets what she wants."
"Do you?" Quince asked. He could tell his voice was still husky from sleep. He had obstinately not pulled the coverings up since she had chosen to intrude, and remained bare to the waist. "Do you always get what you want?"
She looked at him appraisingly. "You seem skeptical, but I can assure you that I do."
"What do you want right now?"
That seemed to make her reflective and she s at down on the edge of the bed and worried the edges of her shawl where they fell across her lap. "To help you."
"To help me? What sort of help do you fancy I need?"
She gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm not sure. Robert wouldn't tell me."
"Yet you assume that I do need help?"
"Why else would you come to see my brother? Early in the morning, unannounced, with not so much as a footman or coach in sight? It doesn't take a great deal of deductive reasoning to arrive at that conclusion. You need help with something."
"I'm sure your brother has whatever I need well in hand."
She frowned. "While I'm sure my brother has the best of intentions, his energies are spread across any number of issues. I, on the other hand," she said, replacing the frown with a smile again, "can provide you with my undivided attentions."
Her emphasis on the word attentions gave Quince all manner of unreasonable ideas. He had never recovered from their first meeting and thought often of what it would be like to touch her. Would her skin be as soft, her hair as fine, as he thought? Sitting there in the sunshine from the window, with her cream colored gown, she was the brightest spot in the room. He realized he was staring at her as he often did at his paintings. Barely breathing, trying to absorb every detail. Her skin was a flawless cream and her eyes sparkled again with the amusement that had drawn him into that most unwise proposition in the first place. Ringlets of dark hair brushed over her shoulders and fell down her back. He wanted to feel those curls, tangle his fingers in them. If she didn't leave the room soon he would do something untoward. Something that actually would deserve to have Robert fetch his pistols.
His extended silence drained away her smile until she was looking at him curiously. While she had spoken she had set one of her hands on the coverlet to lean closer to him. Now he couldn't resist running a finger over the skin on the back of her hand. Yes, it was soft. Soft and warm like a rose petal in the sunlight. She didn't resist or pull away, just looked at where their hands met with a ghost of her smile returning.
"Would you like to hear a secret?" she asked softly.
"Of course," he replied.
She leaned forward until her lips neared his ear, her cheek warm against his own. A curl of her hair tickled his nose, ripe with an exotic floral scent he didn't recognize. "What I really want?" Her breath fanned hot against his neck as she whispered. "Is you."
Her heart beat erratically from a
"I wouldn't have expected you to be a slugabed, your grace. Yet I see your butler was correct. Have you really been in here for days?"
Quince cleared his throat. "My former butler."
Miss Bittlesworth went to the window and wrenched back the curtains, allowing a stream of sunlight in. Although horribly bright, it also served to highlight her figure under the flowing muslin gown. "I'm sorry, your grace?" she asked.
"My former butler. If my man can't stop one tiny woman from disturbing me then he shall have to find employment elsewhere."
She turned and sailed toward him with that pleasant smile firmly in place, stopping mere inches from the edge of the bed. "Don't blame him for meeting a woman who always gets what she wants."
"Do you?" Quince asked. He could tell his voice was still husky from sleep. He had obstinately not pulled the coverings up since she had chosen to intrude, and remained bare to the waist. "Do you always get what you want?"
She looked at him appraisingly. "You seem skeptical, but I can assure you that I do."
"What do you want right now?"
That seemed to make her reflective and she s at down on the edge of the bed and worried the edges of her shawl where they fell across her lap. "To help you."
"To help me? What sort of help do you fancy I need?"
She gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm not sure. Robert wouldn't tell me."
"Yet you assume that I do need help?"
"Why else would you come to see my brother? Early in the morning, unannounced, with not so much as a footman or coach in sight? It doesn't take a great deal of deductive reasoning to arrive at that conclusion. You need help with something."
"I'm sure your brother has whatever I need well in hand."
She frowned. "While I'm sure my brother has the best of intentions, his energies are spread across any number of issues. I, on the other hand," she said, replacing the frown with a smile again, "can provide you with my undivided attentions."
Her emphasis on the word attentions gave Quince all manner of unreasonable ideas. He had never recovered from their first meeting and thought often of what it would be like to touch her. Would her skin be as soft, her hair as fine, as he thought? Sitting there in the sunshine from the window, with her cream colored gown, she was the brightest spot in the room. He realized he was staring at her as he often did at his paintings. Barely breathing, trying to absorb every detail. Her skin was a flawless cream and her eyes sparkled again with the amusement that had drawn him into that most unwise proposition in the first place. Ringlets of dark hair brushed over her shoulders and fell down her back. He wanted to feel those curls, tangle his fingers in them. If she didn't leave the room soon he would do something untoward. Something that actually would deserve to have Robert fetch his pistols.
His extended silence drained away her smile until she was looking at him curiously. While she had spoken she had set one of her hands on the coverlet to lean closer to him. Now he couldn't resist running a finger over the skin on the back of her hand. Yes, it was soft. Soft and warm like a rose petal in the sunlight. She didn't resist or pull away, just looked at where their hands met with a ghost of her smile returning.
"Would you like to hear a secret?" she asked softly.
"Of course," he replied.
She leaned forward until her lips neared his ear, her cheek warm against his own. A curl of her hair tickled his nose, ripe with an exotic floral scent he didn't recognize. "What I really want?" Her breath fanned hot against his neck as she whispered. "Is you."
Her heart beat erratically from a
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