Guarding a Notorious Lady Read Online Free

the wee snoop, I see,” he whispered back, his warm breath dusting her cheek as he, too, took a step closer to her.
    Her mouth opened on a silent gasp. “How dare you make such assumptions,” she whispered as loudly as one could and have it still be considered a whisper.
    A wicked gleam lit his gray eyes. “Is it quite beneath you, then? Women of society don’t meddle in people’s lives?”
    Her mind, refined and knowledgeable in the art of giving someone a fantastic retort, went startlingly blank. Not only was he accusing her of spying, which of course was exactly what she’d been doing, but they were also standing so close to each other now that a deep thrumming began to vibrate through her. Did he feel it, too?
    Giving herself a mental shake, she reminded herself that he was chiding her as if she was some vexing creature—a little sister, perhaps. Frustration simmered inside at the thought.

    simmered inside at the thought.
    She might be someone’s little sister, but she wasn’t his. And she certainly didn’t want him to view her that way—not when she was undoubtedly a woman full grown, not when her feelings for him were so strong, so lasting. Her love was not a transient thing, an infatuation.
    It occurred to her then that he was waiting for her to say something. Refusing to take a step back, she held her ground and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “If you must know, I was trying to get a book down.” She lifted a shoulder daintily, her face a mask of nonchalance.
    “That’s all?”
    “And I couldn’t quite reach it.”
    One brow raised in apparent disbelief. “Indeed?”
    “Indeed.”
    “All right then, which one?”
    “What?” she hedged.
    “Which book?”
    Her eyes flew to the shelf.
    One long, blunt-tipped finger gently tapped her chin.
    “No peeking.”
    A shaky sigh escaped her—as did the title of the book she wanted. Of course, as the book was imaginary, that was to be expected.
    “Now, lass, tell me which book it was that you couldn’t reach,” his eyes dipped to her mouth briefly,
    “and I’ll get it for you. Easy enough.” She swallowed, and then without looking, she reached upward and pointed in the general direction of the shelf she had been poking her head through. “It was on the top shelf.”
    With his serious gaze still upon her, he reached high above her head. His chest so close, the stiff lapels of his coat almost brushed her cheek. His scent surrounded her, warm and clean, and making her want nothing more than to bury her face in the soft folds of his cravat.
    “There’s only one book up there,” he said, his eyes lifting away to look past her.
    “Then, that’s the one,” she chirped, banishing her absurd face-in-the-cravat fantasy.
    “If that be your wish, lass.”
    “It be,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, it is.”
    Voices whispered nearby. He took a step away from her, seeming to finally acknowledge that they might be creating gossip fodder.
    He pulled back further still, and suddenly the thick book she had nudged with her forehead earlier was thrust in her face. “ This book?” he asked suspiciously.
    “Indeed.” She took it with two hands, nearly losing the thing when her wrist twisted from its weight. He caught it before it slipped through her fingers and landed on his feet.
    “Thank you,” she said, grateful that she affected a somewhat lofty tone.
    He bent his head toward her, his eyes intent on the book. Long, slightly call oused fingers reached toward her bodice but stopped short to trace the embossed title stretching across the cover.
    She hoped her barely audible gasp went unnoticed by him.
    He chuckled low and deep in his chest. “ A Detailed History on the Production and Use of Cannons and Muskets. ” He straightened to his full height, a rare smile playing with the corner of his mouth. “I would never suppose that a woman of your sort would be all that interested in the tools of war.”
    My sort?