When His Kiss Is Wicked (13 page)

The doorbell rang at Devon House, but to Lucien, preoccupied with balancing accounts for the estate in his study, the sound of the bell barely registered in his consciousness. Fully immersed in adding up figures and comparing his sums to those of Mr. Kirby, his estate manager, he moved his pen with quick precision across the paper as his mind calculated the large sums with skilled ease.

A knock on the door of his private study prompted him to call, “Come in,” but he did not look up from his books. There was an error in Kirby’s accounting, and Lucien was determined to find it.

“My lord, you have a visitor.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lucien murmured in response to Granger, the Devon House butler. He continued to work at the long column of numbers on the sheet in front of him.

“It’s a young lady.”

Lucien still did not respond, his head bowed over the ledger in front of him.

Granger cleared his throat rather loudly. Having been with the Sinclair family since before Lucien was born, he felt he had certain privileges within the house. “My lord, there is a young lady here to see you. A Miss Hamilton.”

“Who do you say?” The name had finally penetrated Lucien’s preoccupied brain. He immediately closed the leather-bound ledger and placed his pen back in the inkpot on his desk. “Miss Hamilton? Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Is she alone? Where is she now?”

What on earth is Colette doing at my house?

Granger seemed taken aback by Lucien’s sudden barrage of questions. “She’s waiting for you in the front parlor. And yes, she is alone. Apparently she has come to deliver some books you ordered from her shop.”

A sudden excitement racing through him at the thought of Colette at Devon House, Lucien rose to his feet in front of the great mahogany desk where his father once sat. He had immediately assumed it was Colette who was waiting in his parlor, but perhaps it was one of her sisters. “You say it was Miss Colette Hamilton?”

“Yes, I believe that is the name she gave. She’s quite a pretty lady, my lord.” Granger grinned, obviously understanding Lucien’s interest in the young woman.

“Yes, well, that she is.” Lucien smiled ruefully. “Thank you, Granger. I’ll see to the lady now.”

As Lucien made his way to the front parlor, he realized his heart was beating faster than usual. Surprised by and annoyed with himself for the obvious sign of excitement at seeing her, he tried to relax and breathe calmly before he saw her.

Colette stood waiting by the large window overlooking the street, with her back turned partially to the room. She had not heard him come in. Her profile, the elegant outline of her face, was visible under the pretty yellow bonnet that covered her rich hair, and he thought how beautiful she was simply standing there. She wore a simple dress the color of pale daffodils, which only emphasized the blue color of her eyes and set off her figure to perfection. A figure that would make any healthy man’s blood boil. She was gut-wrenchingly attractive. He recalled what it felt like to hold her in his arms and kiss her senseless, touching her and kissing her.

He did not like how she made him feel.

She haunted his thoughts night and day.

Lady Faith Bromleigh did not inspire such feeling within him, which was exactly why she was the perfect choice to be his bride. There would be no pain, no drama, and no heartache with that marriage. With Faith, he would be safe.

Unlike Colette, who left him feeling off balance, somewhat vulnerable, and always so damned aroused. Yet he had never met a woman he’d wanted to learn more about. A woman he wanted to talk to, wanted to kiss, and wanted to make love to and hold on to. A woman he wanted to pull into his arms that very moment and crush her to him—
Bloody hell!

The object of his lustful thoughts and sensual fantasies turned to look at him. For a moment all he saw were her incredible blue eyes, and he could not breathe.

“Good afternoon,” she said hesitantly, unsure of her welcome. She gestured to a bundle wrapped in brown paper resting upon the side table. “Your Charles Dickens books arrived. You haven’t been by the shop recently, so I thought I would bring them to you myself.”

“Thank you, Colette,” he managed to say. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome. It was no trouble, really. I needed to go for a walk and get out of the shop for some air anyway.”

“You brought no chaperone with you?” he questioned.

“No,” she responded crisply. “I am a businesswoman conducting business, and I do not require the presence of a chaperone. This is not a social call.”

“I see.” But he did not. She should not be venturing out unescorted no matter what her reason. He searched for something to say to her. “Did you enjoy the opera the other evening?”

“Yes,” she said, her face lit from within. “It was my first time at the opera and I found it quite lovely.”

“You and Juliette were there as guests of Lord Eddington?”

“Yes, his father invited my aunt and uncle.”

“I see,” he said. She seemed to withdraw from him at the mention of the opera. An awkward silence ensued for a few moments.

She began to walk toward the door, as if to leave the room. “Well, I should be returning to the bookshop now. I—”

“No, please stay,” he protested, placing his hand on her arm to stop her, suddenly loath to see her leave. He had barely recovered from the shock of seeing her in his home, and now she wanted to leave before he’d had a chance to talk to her.

Startled by his words, she froze and looked up at him, her expression confused. “Why?”

Realizing his hand was still on her arm, he still did not remove it, relishing the warmth of her skin through the soft yellow material of her dress. An image of him sliding that dress from her curvaceous body flashed through his mind, causing him to shake himself back to the present. He should send her home, safely on her way. After that night in the garden, he was too tempted by the sweetness of her mouth. For both their sakes, he would be wise to have her leave.

“Because I have wanted to show you our library and I would like your advice about what books might be a good addition to our collection,” he heard himself saying.

She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should…”

“I could really use your help,” he cajoled.

“Well,” she murmured, a shy smile appearing on her face. “I suppose it would be all right. Shall we bring the new books to the library?”

“Absolutely.” He retrieved the package from the table.

Ignoring the little thrill he felt that he had successfully persuaded Colette to stay, he escorted her from the parlor and down the main hallway of Devon House to the library. He swung open the heavy double doors.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked her.

Thick, dark wood shelves lined the walls of the massive room, while tall arched windows framed the fourth wall. Half the shelves were completely empty. A white marble fireplace flanked by bookshelves dominated the main wall. A few leather chairs were scattered about and a wooden ladder rested against one of the shelves. The floor and windows were bare, devoid of carpet and draperies. The heavy odor of fresh paint lingered in the air.

He watched her expression as she inspected the shell of a library.

“It will be an impressive room when it is finished,” she remarked bluntly, “but it is definitely in dire need of more books.”

“Yes, it is,” he admitted with a chuckle, and then explained. “We used to have a full library with some wonderful first editions. But apparently there was a leak behind one of the walls. A very slow leak. With my father so ill, I didn’t notice it until the damage was done. The shelves had buckled and the books became wet and molded, especially after that bad rainstorm we had last fall. They had to gut the room, rip out the old shelves, and repair the walls. Now that the library has been completely redone, we are in the process of restocking the new shelves.”

“What a sad loss! I hate the idea of books being destroyed. It’s as if a little part of history is being erased.” A shadow crossed her face.

“You do love books, don’t you?” he asked, oddly touched by her statement.

“I do,” she acknowledged readily. “And I envy you the freedom of stocking your personal library full of books that you love. In the shop I have to stock books that other people might like. But to have your own library, and one as lovely as this, that is a special treat.”

“Yes, but I have no idea what to choose, how to choose, or how to arrange and organize the books that I do have. As you can plainly see, I am in desperate need of assistance, and who better to help me than you?” What the hell was he doing? He’d just given Colette Hamilton leave to come to his house again. He needed to stay away from her, not invite her in!

The smile that she gave him lit her face from within. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “I would love to arrange your library and select the books! Provided,” she paused and eyed him levelly, “provided that you buy all the books through Hamilton’s. What we don’t have in stock I can order for you.”

Admiring her determination to succeed, he had to admit, “You are an astute businesswoman, aren’t you, Colette?”

She gave him a challenging look. “Are you just realizing that?”

“I think so. You drive a hard bargain, but it’s agreed. I admit that I am relieved to have help. This is a rather large library, and I’ve been at a bit of a loss with what to do with it.”

“Oh, it’s a perfect room!” she cried, hurrying to the shelves. She ran her hand across one empty shelf, testing its weight and durability. She moved to the books that were stacked rather haphazardly on one shelf. Picking up a few, she read the titles and set them back down. She backed up and eyed the room carefully, turning in a slow circle, sizing up the room through a professional eye.

“You will need a vast amount of books to replace your collection.” She pointed to the shelves one by one, her mind moving quickly. “We’ll put fiction on those shelves, beginning with the classics. That area will house the books on history and art. Over there we’ll put scientific and reference materials. And you will definitely need a thick carpet to warm up the room and to muffle the noise. A wide desk should go there, as well as a seating area with large comfortable chairs near the windows to take advantage of natural reading light. And yes, more lighting needs to be addressed. I can have Paulette do the lettering on small cards we can place in brass-plated cardholders to label the different subject areas, just like we do in the shop, only on a smaller scale. Oh, and I know a wonderful printer who makes the most elegant bookplates, and I can have them engraved with Devon House—” She suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned to him with a sheepish look in her face. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.” Lucien had found himself enjoying her enthusiasm for the venture. The woman loved what she did. A little thrill raced through him at seeing her so obviously happy. He was also impressed with her expertise, recognizing the fact that she seemed to know exactly what to do. In a matter of minutes she had elegantly refurbished the entire room.

“Well, I shall draw up a list of essential books that you should begin with and have some sent over as soon as possible.”

“I believe,” he said slowly as an idea formed in his mind, “that this could be a lucrative sideline for you to have, Colette. Helping people stock their private libraries.”

She looked at him curiously. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. You could use me as a reference.”

“I thought you didn’t approve of women working?”

“I don’t,” Lucien quipped. “But you are working, whether I approve or not—”

“My lord?” Granger asked, standing hesitantly in the doorway.

“Yes?” Lucien responded rather brusquely.

Granger explained his interruption. “Your father has been ringing for you. It’s your usual reading time. Shall I tell him that you are otherwise engaged?”

“That is not necessary, Granger. Please tell him I will be up directly.”

The butler exited the room, and Lucien turned his attention back to Colette. “Would you like to come with me?”

“To where?” she asked.

“To read with my father. I would like to introduce you to him.” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider what he was saying. He felt as if he were completely incapable of controlling himself when he was in her presence.
Why does that happen with Colette?

As she wavered with the decision to go with him or not, he realized just how much he wanted his father to meet her.

“I would be honored to meet your father.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, pleased by her response.

“Is he very ill?” Concern crossed her beautiful features.

Lucien nodded. “He has suffered an apoplectic attack. It was rather severe, causing him to lose control over the right side of his body. He cannot move his right arm or leg, and he has difficulty speaking since the right side of his face is paralyzed. His speech has improved somewhat since it first happened a few months back. I’ve learned to understand what he is trying to say.”

“Oh, how dreadful for him. Is he terribly depressed?”

“Yes, I believe so. That’s why I try to spend as much time with him as I can. I read to him, talk to him about current events, and attempt to entertain him a little. His mind is still quite sharp. It’s just that his body does not do what he wants it to do.”

A look of sympathy swept her delicate features. “I can imagine that must be quite frustrating for him. Are you sure he will not mind my intrusion?”

“No, in fact, I believe it might cheer him. He has not had visitors since this happened, and has refused to see anyone he knows. But he has not met you, so how can he refuse your company?”

Colette nodded in helpless agreement with his winning logic. Then she paused. “And what of your mother?”

Since the age of ten Lucien had learned to deftly answer that particular question. With his cool and calm manner, he never revealed the devastation his mother had inflicted upon his life. But now when Colette asked, his gut clenched and he gave her a rather flippant response. “Surely you’ve heard the story of my mother from someone by now. It’s infamous.”