Read Online Alexandra by Lauren Royal, Devon Royal - Free Book Online Page B

mosaic table, sat Tris.
    She mentally revised her last thought: Her sisters wasted entirely too much time on conniving plots.
    An inch taller, indeed!
    Pencil in hand, Tris was engrossed and hadn’t noticed her. While he erased a line and carefully sketched another, she watched. Even drawing a picture, he looked like a man of action. Lean, wide shouldered, his skin kissed by the sun. The same lock of hair flopped over his forehead.
    She wished she could push it back.
    It was pointless, she reminded herself—any wishing for him was pointless. But she so vividly remembered the intimacy of their kiss. The delicious warmth of his body. Herself melting against that delicious warmth.
    He looked up, then bolted to his feet. “Lady Alexandra.”
    Lady. So they were back on formal terms. It was for the better, she decided, hoping he couldn’t divine her earlier thoughts by the heat that had crept, once again, into her cheeks. “Sit, please. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just came in to get a book.”
    He didn’t sit. “May I help you?”
    “It’s right behind you.” Walking over, she slid between him and the shelves. The books were covered by doors of brass mesh in mahogany frames. In order to open them, she had to step back. “Pardon me,” she murmured, wishing he would move.
    Then, when he did, wishing he hadn’t.
    “It’s right here,” she said, rising to her toes to reach the top shelf.
    “Let me help you.” The words were soft by her ear. He reached around her and up, leaning outrageously close, his chest grazing her back. He was as warm as she remembered, and his scent seemed to surround her. Her breath caught in her throat.
    “This green one?” he asked.
    “Yes.” The single syllable came out as a breathy sigh.
    “Here you go,” he said, sliding it free.
    She whirled around, almost in his arms. Almost.
    But if she expected to see her own feelings mirrored in his eyes, she was doomed to disappointment. With a polite smile, he handed her the book. Then he returned to his chair and lifted his pencil.
    Apparently, while her knees had been threatening to give out, he’d only been getting her a book.
    “Thank you,” she said from behind him, feeling schoolgirlish and silly.
    “You’re quite welcome.” He erased another line.
    She clutched the book to her chest as though it could protect her from unwelcome emotions. “What are you drawing?”
    “A water ram pump. I’ll be giving these sketches to the foundry so they can cast the pieces. When I’ve built it, it will pump water from the river to Griffin’s vineyard.”
    Peering over his shoulder, she saw two versions of the metal contraption: a view of the outside, and, below that, a cutaway view showing the inner workings. “That’s very clever,” she said.
    He shrugged. “I’ve tampered with the design some, but I didn’t conceive it. A gentleman in France came up with the idea.”
    “Well, it’s still clever of you to be able to draw it—and build it.” She waited for a response, watching him shade a portion of the sketch. “I must get back to my sisters,” she said when it became clear he was going to remain quiet. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
    “Of course.”
    Of course. It was as simple as that. She sidled out from behind him and began walking away.
    “Alexandra,” he called softly.
    No lady this time. She stopped and turned to find he’d risen again. “Yes?”
    “I want to apologize for last night. I should have explained.”
    “I understand. And I know you tried. It was as much my fault as yours—”
    “Regardless, I had no right to…to make an advance. I beg you to accept my apology. It won’t happen again.”
    A heaviness settled in her chest. That was the last thing she’d wanted to hear. Without a doubt it was the only prudent course, but that didn’t stop her from wishing things were different. From wishing the rest of society had the faith in him that she did.
    “I don’t believe the rumors,” she told