Read Online Still in My Heart by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Smith
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simply starved for companionship.
He mumbled something as he straightened, something that sounded like "strawberry." She had used strawberry cream on her skin that morning, along with a dollop of specially made perfume of the same scent.
"Does my perfume offend you, Lord Creed?" she asked softly, haughtily. The others at their table were engaged in their own conversations as they waited to be served by the footmen carrying trays of food from the house.
He turned his head toward her. He truly was a handsome man. Too bad he was such a cad. She might have loved him if his insides had been as lovely as his outside.
"Not in the least," he replied in his low, smooth voice. "You smell exactly as I remember— like wild strawberries on a hot summer day."
It was an innocent enough description, but the sound of the words on his tongue brought a wave of heat washing over Eleanor. How could she despise him for humiliating her as he had and still find him so attractive? Was it some kind of weakness on her part, or was it simply an example of his seductive power over women?
She didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. She simply reached for her glass of lemonade and took a sip, hoping the tart drink would cool the flush under her skin.
He didn't speak to her again during the meal. In fact he didn't speak much at all, save when conversation was directed at him. Occasionally his knee bumped hers under the table, sending her heart into a cacophony of beats that surely could be heard in Scotland. What was wrong with her? It had to be her nerves. She didn't know his reasons for accepting her father's invitation. She didn't know what game he intended to play with her— if he played one at all.
Dessert was bowls of fresh, ripe berries covered in rich, sweet cream. It was then that Brahm broke his self-imposed silence. Dipping his spoon into the bowl, he retrieved a lush, red strawberry. Beads of cream dotted its shiny surface. Eleanor watched, unable to look away, as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He popped the berry in whole, biting into its sweet flesh with such an expression of satisfaction that Eleanor was ashamed to look, but look she did. Her gaze was fixed on his lips, where a tiny drop of cream threatened to drip away until his tongue flicked out and caught it.
Eleanor shivered.
Returning his spoon to the bowl, Brahm cast her a slow glance, accompanied by a smile that might have been apologetic if it hadn't looked so blasted mocking. "Strawberries are my favorite."
Eleanor's attention whipped back to her own bowl, where she intentionally avoided the strawberries. Tomorrow she would use the rose water instead of her berry scent.
It might be worth the experiment just to see if roses then became the viscount's favorite flower.
Perhaps she was being unfair, but he deserved no more from her— and it was far safer than imagining him devouring her as he devoured that strawberry, for that was the image his words conjured.
No doubt that was his intention.
When the meal was finally over, Eleanor was all too glad to be given the opportunity to finally escape. She was stiff from holding herself so far away from him during luncheon, and she was beginning to develop a pounding in her temples that had nothing to do with the heat.
Brahm followed her to her feet. Even with his cane for support, he was unsteady on the uneven ground. Eleanor reached out to assist him. It was either that or let him fall, and even she wasn't that cruel.
He moved his feet, seemingly shifting his weight to his good leg while stretching the other. No doubt his leg was balking at carrying him after resting for so long.
Brahm's face pinched a bit as he slowly levered some of his bulk onto the injured limb. The skin between his brows furrowed with the effort. Despite her better judgment, Eleanor couldn't help but feel for him. The
He mumbled something as he straightened, something that sounded like "strawberry." She had used strawberry cream on her skin that morning, along with a dollop of specially made perfume of the same scent.
"Does my perfume offend you, Lord Creed?" she asked softly, haughtily. The others at their table were engaged in their own conversations as they waited to be served by the footmen carrying trays of food from the house.
He turned his head toward her. He truly was a handsome man. Too bad he was such a cad. She might have loved him if his insides had been as lovely as his outside.
"Not in the least," he replied in his low, smooth voice. "You smell exactly as I remember— like wild strawberries on a hot summer day."
It was an innocent enough description, but the sound of the words on his tongue brought a wave of heat washing over Eleanor. How could she despise him for humiliating her as he had and still find him so attractive? Was it some kind of weakness on her part, or was it simply an example of his seductive power over women?
She didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. She simply reached for her glass of lemonade and took a sip, hoping the tart drink would cool the flush under her skin.
He didn't speak to her again during the meal. In fact he didn't speak much at all, save when conversation was directed at him. Occasionally his knee bumped hers under the table, sending her heart into a cacophony of beats that surely could be heard in Scotland. What was wrong with her? It had to be her nerves. She didn't know his reasons for accepting her father's invitation. She didn't know what game he intended to play with her— if he played one at all.
Dessert was bowls of fresh, ripe berries covered in rich, sweet cream. It was then that Brahm broke his self-imposed silence. Dipping his spoon into the bowl, he retrieved a lush, red strawberry. Beads of cream dotted its shiny surface. Eleanor watched, unable to look away, as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He popped the berry in whole, biting into its sweet flesh with such an expression of satisfaction that Eleanor was ashamed to look, but look she did. Her gaze was fixed on his lips, where a tiny drop of cream threatened to drip away until his tongue flicked out and caught it.
Eleanor shivered.
Returning his spoon to the bowl, Brahm cast her a slow glance, accompanied by a smile that might have been apologetic if it hadn't looked so blasted mocking. "Strawberries are my favorite."
Eleanor's attention whipped back to her own bowl, where she intentionally avoided the strawberries. Tomorrow she would use the rose water instead of her berry scent.
It might be worth the experiment just to see if roses then became the viscount's favorite flower.
Perhaps she was being unfair, but he deserved no more from her— and it was far safer than imagining him devouring her as he devoured that strawberry, for that was the image his words conjured.
No doubt that was his intention.
When the meal was finally over, Eleanor was all too glad to be given the opportunity to finally escape. She was stiff from holding herself so far away from him during luncheon, and she was beginning to develop a pounding in her temples that had nothing to do with the heat.
Brahm followed her to her feet. Even with his cane for support, he was unsteady on the uneven ground. Eleanor reached out to assist him. It was either that or let him fall, and even she wasn't that cruel.
He moved his feet, seemingly shifting his weight to his good leg while stretching the other. No doubt his leg was balking at carrying him after resting for so long.
Brahm's face pinched a bit as he slowly levered some of his bulk onto the injured limb. The skin between his brows furrowed with the effort. Despite her better judgment, Eleanor couldn't help but feel for him. The
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