Chapter 4
Four
The warm light of the late afternoon filtered through the tall windows of the library at Sinbrough House, dust motes dancing lazily in the beams, as Grant, Viscount Oakwood, crossed the polished parquet floor with a restlessness that would not abate.
Tea with Lady Cocwood and her sister, the Duchess of Sinbrough, had proven far more vexing than he had anticipated—not in the company of Lady Sinbrough, whose wit was ever so pleasant, but in the presence of her lovely sister, Lady Cocwood.
The lovely widow had excused herself some moments ago, yet he could not stay seated.
There was a pull, subtle and insistent, that drew his attention to her, and it was a force he could not deny.
Truthfully, he did not want to. There was something about her that he found he could not resist, and he had never been one to deny himself temptation.
He certainly would not start now. After he excused himself, he left the sitting room with one purpose. He had to find her.
Grant’s boots made barely a sound on the floor as he traced the familiar corridors, his pulse quickening at the thought of finding her.
He did not know what he would say to her once he did locate her.
But that did not matter. He had never had trouble talking to a woman before and he doubted he would struggle now.
He wandered the halls hoping he would cross paths with her soon.
He did not want to actually appear to be searching for her though.
That would not do at all… He slowly turned into another room.
One he normally would not bothered to stroll into.
Books were well and good, but he usually found entertainment in other areas.
But the lovely widow… She seemed the sort to like a good tome.
He smiled as he entered the room and stopped short.
There she was... Lady Cocwood stood before a row of well-worn shelves in the library; her figure bathed in the golden afternoon light.
She seemed utterly absorbed in the books, her fingers lightly brushing the spines as if reading them through touch alone.
Grant paused, taken off guard by the sight of her.
The grace with which she moved, the thoughtful tilt of her head—it struck him suddenly, and he could not look away.
She was the most enchanting woman he had ever beheld.
The soft light haloing around he gave he an ethereal visage that struck him momentarily stunned.
A breath later, he shook himself, chastising the intrusion of his own fascination.
He had to proceed with caution. She must not know the effect she had on him.
He stepped forward, shoulders squared, lips curling into what he hoped was a rakish, yet respectful smile.
“Lady Cocwood,” he began smoothly, bowing his head in formal greeting, “it appears the library offers far more intrigue than the sitting room. Though, I daresay, nothing here rivals your beauty.” He sounded like a right arse…
Hopefully his inane drivel did not drive her away before he had time to actually speak with her.
She did not turn to face him immediately, her attention still fixed on the shelves, but Grant thought he caught the faintest twitch of her lips, as if she were fighting a smile.
His chest tightened with a mix of amusement and desire, and he took it as tacit encouragement to continue.
“Do allow me,” he said, moving closer, “to assist you in selecting a volume. After all, one never knows what treasure might lie hidden on these shelves.”
Her eyes flicked toward him at last, sharp and unamused, and yet the subtle lift of one brow suggested she was not entirely immune to his attentions.
Grant’s pulse quickened at the challenge.
This was precisely the sort of battle he lived for—wits against wit, charm against guarded decorum.
He held back a smile that threatened to form.
She was breathtaking. He did not want to show his hand.
At least not yet. This woman had to be wooed carefully and with precision.
Grant refused to fail in this courtship.
He had a feeling it would be the most important pursuit of his life.
“And what makes you presume, my lord, that I require your assistance?” she asked her voice cool, though not without a hint of something more—something almost bemused.
Something flashed in her eyes that made him think she was not as immune to his charms as she pretended to be. He could work with that.
“Only the conviction,” he replied smoothly, “that even the most formidable lady occasionally welcomes the guidance of a willing friend.”
Lady Cocwood’s lips twitched again, ever so slightly, and though she did not relent, Grant could not help but feel that the dance had begun.
And he, for one, had no intention of stepping away.
This was progress and he would march forward with the intent to win her.
She tilted her head to the side and studied him.
“Are we friends?” She lifted a brow. “I had not realized you were elevated to such a status in my life.”
“I like to believe we are.” He lifted the corner of his lip upward into a sure smile. One that had charmed ladies in the past.
“You are far too sure of yourself, my lord,” she told him. She turned away from him and wandered over to another shelf. “What you are to me is far from friendly.”
“You would me, my lady,” he said as he held his palm over his chest. “I thought that we had progressed to the best of friends.”
“I barely know you.” She glanced back at him. “And I do not wish to further our acquaintance.”
Grant did not believe her. She seemed far too interested in him for such a statement to be true. “We will cross paths often,” he told her. “Your sister is married to my favorite cousin.”
“That is true,” she agreed. “At least in part. I could not say with any certainty what cousin of yours is your favorite. I will have to take your word on that.” She plucked a book off of the shelf and flipped it open.
“As to our paths crossing…” She sighed. “I suppose that is an inevitability. The often part I am not so certain about. I hope to leave Sinbrough House soon and therefore you and I may rarely cross paths after that.”
She was leaving? He did not like that revelation. “Then I suppose I will have to use this time we have to win you over.”
“Win me over?” She narrowed her gaze. “For what purpose, my lord?”
“I am determined we will be friends,” he told her. Actually, he hoped they would be far more than that. The extent of what he wanted from her he had not yet determined. But he had to kiss her at the very least. Not yet…but hopefully, soon.
Grant suppressed the urge to grin at her sharp retort. Her words might have been cool, but the faint flush along her cheekbones told another story entirely. She was not indifferent to him, not truly. That knowledge was dangerous—and intoxicating.
“You’re delusional, my lord,” she retorted. “Perhaps I should be concerned for my sister’s welfare if you are to remain here at Sinbrough House.”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until he stood but a pace from her. “I assure you I am quite sane,” he said lightly. “I am not in the habit of forcing my company on unwilling ladies.” He smiled though he wasn’t sure he felt it. “Your sister, and you, need not worry about me.”
“I suppose I will have to take your word for it,” she said, then sighed. “You do not look like you have lost your sanity.” She shrugged. “But I have been wrong before.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Do you want to know what I think?” he asked.
“I’m not certain that I do,” she replied and placed the book she was holding back on the shelf. She plucked a red tome off and flipped it open. He didn’t think she was actually reading any of it.
“I think you like me,” he said. “You are doing a wonderful job of pretending. Yet, here I stand, and here you are, parrying every word I speak with one of your own. One might almost believe you enjoy it.”
Her eyes snapped to his, clear and bright as a blade. “You overestimate your charm, my lord.” She closed the book in her hands with a soft thud and placed it back upon the shelf. “I find verbal sparring no different than fencing practice. It keeps one’s reflexes sharp.”
Grant’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “Then I shall endeavor to keep you well-trained, my lady.”
The faintest flicker of something crossed her face—annoyance, perhaps, but threaded through with amusement.
He could work with that. He had always preferred a worthy opponent, and this woman, with her steady gaze and proud carriage, was unlike any he had ever pursued.
Most ladies melted beneath a few murmured compliments.
Not her. She held her ground as if she were defending a fortress.
Good. He liked fortresses. He liked storms. And Lady Cocwood was both.
“You may try all you wish, my lord,” she said, gathering her skirts and turning toward the bookshelf.
“But I warn you now—I am not a conquest to be won.” She pulled yet another book down.
This one was encased in brown leather. One that was well worn as if it were one of the resident’s favorite tomes.
She moved past him and moved toward a nearby settee.
He followed but kept a respectful distance. “Then perhaps,” he said softly, “you are a treasure to be discovered. Slowly.”
Her step faltered, just for an instant, before she recovered. “You are incorrigible,” she murmured, settling down on the settee with her book, as if the simple act could shield her from his gaze.
Grant let her have her reprieve. For now. But as he watched her flipped the pages of her book with careful composure, he knew—absolutely—that she felt the same pull he did. She might fight him with every ounce of her will, but he had time. He had patience. And he had every intention of using both.
For the first time in his life, the thought of pursuit felt less like a game and more like a purpose.
She was not simply another flirtation. She was temptation wrapped in steel, a woman who might actually matter.
And Grant found himself with far too many idle amusements.
He hungered for the one thing he had never expected to want… something real.
“What have you found to read?” he inquired.
She sighed and glanced up at him. “Must you be so irritating?”
His lips twitched. “No,” he said. “But it amuses me to fluster you.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the settee. “What must I say or do to make you leave me be? I do wish to read this book, and you are making it impossible.”
“Come for a walk with me,” he said impulsively. “I am restless, and I adore your company.”
She shook her head. “I do not wish to…”
“Please,” he begged. He was not against using whatever he could to keep her by his side.
He did want them to be friends. Though he did hope for more than that…
He fully believed they would be lovers one day and it would be far better if they were friends first. He wanted her to be comfortable with him.
It would make it far easier for him to give her the pleasure she deserved.
“Don’t allow me to be alone. I need the company. ”
“I sincerely doubt that,” she said, but she stood and closed her book. “If I walk with you now do you promise to allow me the peace to read when we return.”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. He might have agreed to anything to gain her acquiescence in this. “Shall we then?”
She shook her head, but he caught the twitch of her lips as she fought a smile. His charm was working even though she steadfastly denied it. He was winning her over and he was invigorated by the small progress he had made so far with her.
“I suppose we shall,” she agreed. She set her book down on a nearby table and moved over to him.
They exited the library in companionable silence.
He would use this time with her to make sure she became even more accustomed to him.
Grant had a plan. He would not fail. She was the one woman he knew in his soul he could not lose.
He did not know how he knew that. He just did.
He would not rush her. But he would not give up. Not on this. Not on her.