Chapter 14 #3
Slowly his gaze drifted down her body. Her breath caught in her throat. Good Lord, not again, she thought as a tumult of feelings roared through her ... feminine delight ... anticipation ... desire. To her shock, his eyes seemed to mirror her feelings.
He bent his head to whisper warmly, “Or better yet, you could show me later, when we’re alone.”
A delicious shiver tripped along her spine. He still wanted her. Despite all the women he’d courted this week, he still wanted her.
She stiffened. Yes, what about all those women? With an arch look, she edged away from him. “We shan’t be alone later. You forget that you have several women to court tonight.”
His smile—dark, sweet, and dangerous—sent a frisson of excitement clear to her toes. “Ah, but I’ve given up on that. I’ve discovered that all the women I’ve met and courted in the last week lack something necessary to me in a wife.”
“And what is that?”
“None of them are you.”
Her heart leapt in her chest, like a bird trapped inside a glass box. She averted her gaze, but couldn’t avert her mind from his tender words. They resounded through her body like the boy’s shouts in the vast hall and sent hot need flooding her veins.
Georgie skidded up to them, followed closely by her other brothers. “Lissy, Lissy, the Separate Room is next door! Can we go in? Please?”
Thank God for her dear rascal of a brother, who drew her thoughts from the darkly handsome man at her back with his tempting hints about later and alone. “Now, Georgie, I told you last night that you couldn’t. The Separate Room isn’t for boys your age.”
“But Lissy, I’m almost twelve,” James said. “That’s practically a man.”
James had a point, but there’d be hell to pay if she let him enter without the triplets. “I’m sorry, James. I think it best we end our tour here.”
“Aw, Lissy,” Georgie cried in abject disappointment. “Why can’t we go?”
Ian spoke up. “I don’t mind taking the lads through if you have no desire to enter yourself.”
Frustration over his flirtations made his intrusion on her authority set her temper flaring like touchstone. “It’s not myself I’m concerned about,” she said firmly. “It’s the boys. Such things give them nightmares. Everyone says the Separate Room is gory.”
With mischief glinting in his eyes, Ian laid his hands on Georgie’s shoulders. “But boys have an abiding need to steep themselves in gore. I certainly did.”
“At six years old? They’re too young, I tell you.”
“Perhaps you should let them be the judge of that,” Ian said.
His interference began to alarm her. He thought this a grand joke.
Let six-year-olds decide what they could handle, indeed!
Six-year-old boys thought they could fly, for God’s sake.
Only last month Georgie had planned to spring from the balcony armed with wings he’d fashioned from tin. Thank God for Ansel’s tattling.
“May I speak to you in private, Lord St. Clair?” she said coolly.
“Certainly.” He followed her to a spot a few paces away from her brothers.
She fought to keep her tone reasonable. “I know we’ve had our differences, but you mustn’t let that influence your judgment. James is old enough, but the triplets are only babies. They have wild imaginations and frighten easily.”
He looked at her askance. “The Terrors of Taylor Hall, as your housekeeper calls them? Trust me, boys are more resilient than you think. They enjoy a good scare.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Tell me, would your mother have let you see such things?”
“No, but then she wouldn’t have let me go to a waxworks exhibition at all. Father wouldn’t have approved.”
“I can see why, if you wanted to study sculptures of bloody bodies at the tender age of six.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Whether I’d been six or sixteen, they wouldn’t have let me go. I wasn’t allowed to attend fairs or play games or—” He broke off. “Father considered such entertainments unproductive. He was ... a rigid sort.”
The admission stunned her. It was the first time he’d spoken of his past or even mentioned his parents. She rejoiced in this evidence that he could do so. She even sympathized with his feelings. But he was wrong about the boys.
“I agree that children need entertainment, but—”
“I tell you what. Go in with us, and if you consider it unsuitable, we’ll come right back out. I swear it. You, of all people, know how newspapers exaggerate to sell tickets. It probably only contains old dog bones and an ax or two.”
He had a point. She’d said as much in her own column. She glanced from Ian to her expectant brothers. “Very well. We’ll take a quick look. But if I see so much as a smashed finger displayed in that exhibit, I’ll—”
None of them gave her time to finish. They were racing off to the opposite end of the hall where a doorway covered in a black curtain awaited them.
Next to it a big sign read Warning in bold letters, followed by smaller script, no doubt extolling the faint-inducing properties of the room’s contents.
An uneasiness gripped her. If Ian were wrong ...
She only prayed he wasn’t.