[Victoria Alexander] The Virgin's Secret (Harringt(BookZZ.org) (11 page)

He drew a deep breath and forced a cordial note to his voice. Regardless of the circumstances, she was still their guest. “I trust you slept well?”

“Quite.”

He had scarcely slept at all, and even the most rational man could indeed place the blame for that squarely at the feet and well-turned ankles of Miss Montini. He had tossed and turned all night.

In those few moments when he had dozed, he dreamed of kisses shared with blue-eyed beauties in the moonlight. Little wonder he awoke in a foul mood.

“Your rooms were acceptable, then?”

“More than acceptable.”

If they were to accomplish anything together, he should probably set aside all thoughts of kissing the delectable Miss Montini, as difficult as that might be.

“And breakfast? Was it satisfactory?”

“It was excellent.”

Still, even now with her hair pinned neatly into place, wearing a gown that was more than

proper—indeed one might even call it virginal—her attention focused firmly on the letters before her, he had the most insane desire to vault over the desk, yank her to her feet, pull her into his arms and press his lips to hers. Lips he had no doubt would be firm and warm and pliant beneath his and would respond to his ardor with immediate enthusiasm as her shapely, seductive body pressed—

“And the weather, Mr. Harrington?”

“What?” His attention jerked back to reality, and in his mind she reluctantly slipped out of his arms.

“The weather, Mr. Harrington.” She turned over a page then lifted her gaze to his. “I assume that was the next inconsequential topic.”

“Inconsequential?” He stared. What was it about this woman that made him want to at once kiss her and turn her over his knee?

A slight, knowing smile touched the corners of her mouth as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking. Damnable creature. Well, two could play at that game.

“I‟d scarcely call a fine spring day such as this inconsequential, Miss Montini.”

She shrugged. “It is a spring day like any other.”

“Not at all. It could be cloudy or rainy or blustery. But today the sun shines, the birds sing, and flowers are in bloom, their fragrance wafted about on the mere caress of a breeze.” He propped his hip on the desk and smiled at her. “Indeed, Miss Montini, „What is so rare as a day in June?‟”

“Poetry, Mr. Harrington?” She scoffed. “I would not have suspected you were a poetic sort of man.”

“I daresay, there are many things about me you do not suspect.” He wagged his brows at her in a wicked manner.

“And many that I do.” She settled back in her chair and studied him. “For example, I suspect you are a man who does not let minor inconsistencies like facts stand in your way.”

“And why do you suspect that?”

“For one thing,” she smiled in a smug manner, “it‟s only May.”

“Are you not impressed, then?” He forced a mock serious note to his vote. “That I can bend the months of the year to suit my purposes?”

“You did no such thing. What you did was quote a line of poetry in hopes of impressing me

because any number of women would fall at the feet of poetry spouting, handsome, exciting men who make their living in the pursuit of treasure and adventure.”

He grinned. “You think I‟m handsome?”

Her eyes widened in obvious dismay at what she‟d said and the most delightful blush swept up her face. She leaned forward and directed her attention back to the letters on the desk.

“Goodness, Mr. Harrington,” she said under her breath. “A mirror would tell you no less, and I cannot imagine you are surprised.”

“It‟s not the observation.” He laughed. “It‟s the observer that has shocked me.”

“Hmph.”

“I am flattered that you think so highly of me.”

“I don‟t think highly of you,” she muttered, her gaze still on the papers before her. “I don‟t think of you at all.”

“You think I‟m handsome.”

“It was an observation, Nathanial,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing more significant than that.”

His grin widened. “You think I‟m exciting as well.”

“I didn‟t say that.” She glanced up at him, her expression again composed and cool. “I was speaking in general terms about men who make their living as you do.”

“Nonsense, Gabriella.” He laughed. “You think I‟m handsome and exciting.”

“I most certainly—”

“As we are making confessions.” He leaned toward her. “I find you exciting as well as quite lovely.”

“I am not the least bit exciting.”

He grinned. “But you will not protest my observation as to your beauty?”

“It seems rather pointless; I am well aware of my appearance. Not that it matters.”

“It matters to most women.”

“I am not most women.”

“No, you are not.” He chuckled. “Most women would not treat a compliment as though it were an insult.”

“You‟re right.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “It was rude of me of me. Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Harrington, it was very nice of you. Why, I am flattered beyond words.”

He snorted back a laugh.

She pushed away from the desk and rose to her feet. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to know that a gentleman”—she cast him a skeptical look, as if questioning whether he was worthy of the title—“thinks you are lovely.”

“Quite lovely.” He nodded in a somber manner and slipped off the desk to his feet.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why, it has quite made my life worth living.”

“Well.” He shrugged modestly. “One does what one can.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I daresay I should weep into my pillow each and every night if you did not think I was lovely.”

He grinned. “There‟s no need for sarcasm.”

“I cannot imagine a worse fate than not being lovely in your eyes.”

He laughed, and she ignored him.

“Now then, I suggest we dispense with discussion of the fire in my eyes or the tilt of my chin, as I recall they were thoroughly discussed last night.” She waved at the papers on the desk. “These are my brother‟s letters. I have read them countless times but you should go through them. You might see something I‟ve missed. The letters contain the names of four men, including you and your brother—what are you staring at?”

“Your lips, Gabriella.” His gaze flicked to her eminently kissable lips and back to her eyes, which did indeed flash with at least annoyance if not fire. “We have not discussed your lips.”

“The lips that beg—” She bit her bottom lip as if to hold back the words.

He bit back a smile of his own. “That beg to be kissed? Yes, those lips.”

She stared at him, then rolled her gaze toward the heavens. “Very well, then.” She stepped toward him, closed her eyes and raised her chin. “Go on.”

He grinned down at her. “Go on what?”

Her eyes remained closed but her shoulders heaved with a resigned sigh. “Kiss me. It‟s what you want. Go on, then.”

He bit back a laugh. “Now?”

“Yes, of course now.” Her eyes snapped open. “It seems to me we will never get anything at all accomplished if all you can think about is kissing me.”

“That‟s not entirely all I‟m thinking about,” he said under his breath.

She cast him a glance designed to wither the confidence of even the most arrogant man. “That, Mr. Harrington, is not my problem.”

“You called me Nathanial a moment ago.”

She paused. “Did I?”

“Indeed you did, and I liked it.”

“It was a slip of the tongue.” She shrugged. “Not the least bit important. I certainly didn‟t intend for you—”

“There‟s nothing like hearing your given name from the lips of a beautiful woman. Lips I might add that are—”

“Yes, yes, begging to be kissed.” She waved off his words with an impatient gesture.

“Regardless, I believe it would be most expedient for our purposes if we dispense with

formalities altogether. You may call me Nathanial, I shall call you Gabriella.”

“Mr. Harrington,” she said firmly.

He raised a brow.

“Very well, then, I suppose it does make a certain amount of sense. And I have already been thinking of you as Nathanial. But only to differentiate you from your brother,” she added

quickly.

“Exactly as I thought.”

“And it shall be no more importance that that of a…a…sister—yes that‟s it—a sister calling a brother by his given name. Not the least bit significant. Now, then.” She again closed her eyes and raised her chin. “If you would be so good as to kiss me, we can put this nonsense behind us.”

“Behind us?”

“This too is a matter of expediency. Nothing more.”

“Expediency.” He nodded. “And efficiency too, I would imagine?”

“Yes, yes.” Impatience sounded in her voice. Her shoulders stiffened. “Go on with it.”

“It‟s tempting,” he said in a low voice, and stared down at her. This was indeed an opportunity.

But one only a fool would take. “I daresay I cannot remember when last I encountered anything this…irresistible.”

“I am flattered,” she said in a cool voice that nonetheless sounded just a touch breathless. Her chin rose another notch.

“But I think not.”

Her eyes snapped open. “What do you mean—you think not? How could you possibly think

not?”

“It might have been that business about you calling me by my given name in the manner of a sister.” He shook his head. “For future reference, Gabriella, when asking a man to kiss you, you should not put him in mind of his sister. It does tend to spoil the mood.”

“I did not ask you to kiss me!”

“No.” He shrugged. “You told me. That too tends to destroy the ambience of the moment. A man likes to believe—even if it‟s not true—that he is in command of such things.”

She stared in disbelief. “Then you are not going to kiss me?”

“Oh, I am most certainly going to kiss you, but not at this particular moment.”

“Don‟t be absurd. This is your opportunity, and I warn you, Nathanial, there shall not be another.

Now.” She huffed, stepped toward him and once more closed her eyes and lifted her chin. “Let‟s get this over and done with.”

He bit back a laugh. “My dear Gabriella, a kiss is not something one gets over and done with. It is not a foul tasting medicine one is forced to take.”

Her eyes opened. “I do know—”

“Surely you have been kissed?”

“Of course I have been kissed,” she said sharply. “Any number of times.”

He raised a brow. “Have you?”

She blushed yet again, and he noted how there was something quite compelling about an

intelligent, confident woman who blushed so easily. “I am not a child.”

Still, he‟d wager his next big find that she had not been kissed often and probably not well. “And were those previous kisses such that you simply wished for them to be over and done with?”

“Well, ye—no!” She forced an awkward laugh. “Each and every kiss was quite enjoyable.

Really, very nice.”

“Very nice?” He shook his head in a somber manner. “A kiss, Gabriella, should never be merely nice.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

“Even very nice is not good enough,” he said before she could utter a word. It did seem best.

“First of all, a kiss is…an overture, if you will, to the grander symphony to come. A prologue to the rest of the story.” He clasped his hands behind his back and slowly circled her. Her wary gaze followed him. “A taste of the banquet yet to be savored.”

“Mr. Harrington—Nathanial.” She jerked her gaze back to a point directly in front of her and squared her shoulders. “There will be no symphony, no story, and certainly no banquet.”

Nate smiled. “You are taking my words in a manner in which they were not intended. I am

explaining the nature of a kiss in general terms, not the nature of our kiss.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you see our kiss as the first step toward you joining me in my bed.”

She shot him a look of disdain over her shoulder. “I most certainly do not! And would you stop circling me. I feel like a chicken being marked by a fox.”

“Regardless.” He casually moved to stand in front of her. “A kiss is still a beginning. As well as a turning point. A kiss should make you feel as if it were the first moment of something

wonderful.”

She snorted.

“You don‟t agree?”

“No.” Her foot twitched as if she were resisting the urge to stamp it. “A kiss is…”

“Yes?” His brow rose.

“It‟s…” She raised a shoulder in an offhand shrug. “It‟s a momentary loss of control of one‟s senses. Yes, that‟s it. It‟s nothing more than an instant of surrender to one‟s baser instincts.”

“Oh dear, Gabriella.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “You may have been kissed but you have obviously not been well or properly kissed. And you have never been kissed by me.”

“Come now, Nathanial.”

“Do you doubt me?”

“I do not doubt your arrogance.”

“A kiss is not something one closes one‟s eyes and braces oneself for as if one were England preparing for a Viking invasion.” He cast her a slow, wicked smile. “A women who has been

well kissed does not think of a kiss as merely a kiss.”

She stared for a moment then accepted his challenge. “A woman who has kissed you, you

mean?”

He shrugged in a modest manner. “I have yet to hear a complaint.”

“Very well, then.” She smiled pleasantly. “Prove yourself.”

He hadn‟t quite foreseen that. Caution edged his voice. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Nathanial, I have offered you a kiss for the one you feel I owe you. And even I can understand how you might have a legitimate claim. Therefore, as I can see you will be like a dog with a bone and not let this go, I shall give you another chance.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a gleam of triumph in her eye. “Kiss me.”

“I don‟t know that I should.” He shook his head slowly. “A kiss—especially a first kiss—is to be savored and enjoyed. And remembered always.”

She raised a brow. “Not up to the challenge, then?”

“Oh I am certainly up to the challenge,” he murmured, and studied her for a moment. “I‟m

simply not certain if I wish to be commanded to kiss you.”

She shrugged. “It remains your choice.”