Read Online A Gentleman Never Tells by Eloisa James - Free Book Online Page A

he said.
    She blinked at him with absurdly long eyelashes that made her look like an ostrich, large eyes surrounded by delicate fringes. “How do you know my first name? You mustn’t address me so informally!”
    Oliver had the idea that if he started kissing her, she might run from the room. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to hear my apology?”
    â€œThere’s no need to apologize,” she said. “You can simply address me appropriately from now on and I’ll—­”
    â€œLizzie.”
    She stopped.
    â€œI refuse to call you Lady Troutt because I don’t want to think of you with that man. Not at all.”
    Her breathing seemed a little irregular. Was that a good sign? Silence stretched between them.
    â€œSo I shall call you Lizzie,” he stated.
    â€œAll right,” she said in a rush. “All right, you may address me as Lizzie but only here, that is, when no one can overhear us.”
    That would do for the moment.
    â€œAre you prepared to pretend to be Lady Mayne?”
    She gave herself a little shake, and raised her chin. “Yes, Mr. Berwick?” Her voice took on a faint but delightful Scottish burr.
    â€œI apologize for calling you a sausage, whether it be Scottish, English, French . . . Portuguese.”
    â€œGerman sausages are also excellent,” she offered. “But I don’t think you should digress into particulars, Mr. Berwick.”
    â€œOliver.”
    She hesitated, and then gave him a small smile. “This is monstrously improper. But all right, Oliver. I think you should concentrate on making your amends, rather than straying in a direction that might make the countess dwell too much on the roundness of sausages.”
    Oliver had no interest in countesses, and he couldn’t pretend that he did. Lizzie had let his jacket fall open, which meant that the gentle curve of her breast gleamed like a hidden treasure.
    He took a step closer. “I take one look at you, and I lose my mind and start thinking about food.”
    â€œLord Mayne is unlikely to appreciate this approach. My sister tells me they are a most devoted ­couple.”
    He dragged his eyes away from the swell of her breasts. “I scarcely met you,” he said, the words coming out rather raggedy, “before I knew that I wanted you.”
    â€œI think your apology needs more humility,” Lizzie said, a smile trembling on her lips. She knew perfectly well that he was speaking of her, not the countess. “Perhaps you should get on your knees.”
    He saw shock in her eyes the moment the words left her mouth.
    â€œI would get on my knees,” he said carefully, “if you want me to.”
    â€œNo,” she gasped. “There’s no need for that, Mr. Berwick, I mean, Oliver. I accept your apology. Truly. No word of sausages shall ever pass between us again.”
    â€œVery well,” he said. “But you’re certain that you don’t wish me to apologize on my knees?”
    â€œAbsolutely certain!”
    He took a final step, so that there was no air between their two bodies. “When I look at you , Lizzie, I don’t think of sausages.”
    There was an aching tone in his voice that he’d never heard before from his own mouth, but he gave a mental shrug. For some reason, fate had put him here, with a beautiful woman who was staring up at him with an expression of utter confusion.
    He wasn’t confused. He was burning like a live coal.
    He knew with a sudden, ferocious conviction that Lizzie had never been set alight at all. She was his, all his.
    Never mind the fact she’d been married. She was still his.
    â€œLooking at you, I think of peaches in the warm sunlight,” he said, making another surprising discovery about himself. He had a poetic bent. “Silky, juicy peaches, the kind one cannot bear to eat and cannot bear not to eat.”
    Her eyes widened a bit. “Mr.