Lily (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Read Free Book Online Page B

mirror as he slapped some on both cheeks and tried to remember the last time he’d really enjoyed Christmas.
    He didn’t have fond memories of Christmas, so he moved on to the next scent.
    Musky. This one put him in mind of a hot tumble beneath the sheets. Much better than thinking about his family. Since he’d never found himself lacking for female companionship, the fragrance brought a smile back to his face. He layered it over the others, thinking about the last mistress he’d had in Oxford. A pleasant tumble she’d been, but they’d parted last month on amiable terms, she having found another man, one willing to take her to wife. And if she’d left with a bit of regret in her eyes, his own emotions had leaned more toward relief.
    He wasn’t interested in marriage.
    At least, he’d thought he wasn’t. Dons, the teaching fellows at Oxford, were not allowed to wed. Although professors didn’t live under that stricture, very few fellows were ever elevated to that lofty stature, especially at his young age. Professorship had always been a goal, but he’d never counted on it, never stopped to think about the fact that as things now stood, he could have a wife and children should he want them.
    The chamber seemed overly warm. He rose to pace the room, loosening the laces at his neck, untying his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, he halted. Gray eyes gazed back at him, implacable.
    Marriage had crossed his mind more than once today, rather uncomfortably, but whatever could have changed to make him suddenly picture children . . . a whole family?
    His new home, perhaps? It had, after all, five bedchambers. As he and Kit had planned it, had he been thinking, somewhere deep inside, that he might someday want to begin filling all those many rooms?
    Hell, no.
    Holding Ford’s son might have jarred his emotions, but he’d never seen himself as a family man. He had no idea how to raise a child, no good example from which to work.
    He wasn’t ready for that sort of responsibility; perhaps he never would be. The concept of marriage was frightening enough, but children . . . the mere idea made him shiver.
    From the far reaches of the mansion, notes wafted up and through his door. “Greensleeves.” A traditional tune, played, he thought, by a nurturing, traditional sort of woman.
    Perhaps the only woman who could make him change his mind.
    “Rose, don’t!” Lily admonished in a whisper.
    “Whyever not? ’Tis a kind gesture to see to a guest’s welfare.” Ignoring her sister, Rose knocked on the door.
    “Lord Randal?” She raised her voice—and an Ashcroft’s raised voice was no timid thing, living as they did with the half-deaf earl. “Lord Randal, are you quite all right?
    Will you be needing anything more this evening?”
    Lily huffed, then caught her breath when the door suddenly swung open. Rand stood there in shirtsleeves, and those rolled up. His forearms looked a healthy brown.
    The top of his shirt was unlaced as well, revealing a bronzed triangle of skin.
    How was it that a professor saw the sun? Did academics not spend their days secluded in research?
    Once again, she found herself staring. Although he was handsome—arresting, even—his wasn’t a pretty face.
    The jaw was a mite too strong, the nose too long, the brows too heavy and straight. But there was something about those eyes, that smile . . .
    “Yes?” he said, amusement tinging his gaze as he examined her quite as boldly as she had him.
    She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I—”
    “I only wanted to inquire as to your welfare,” Rose hurried to put in, so quickly Lily wondered if she sensed something between the two of them.
    “I’m quite fine,” he said, stepping farther into the doorway. A cloud of scent moved with him. Not a subtle cloud.
    “Have you been testing Mum’s perfumes?” Rose wrinkled her nose. “I apologize, my lord. Apparently one of my