Read Online Tempted by a Lady’s Smile by Christi Caldwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Christi Caldwell
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two syllables in her lilting tone. I’m going utterly mad. There is no else accounting for it. “I did not come here to mock you.” Once again, guilt needled at him. For the lady was certainly entitled to her suspicious opinion where he was concerned.
“Do you mean you have not come here to mock me more than you have already done these past two days?” She shot an eyebrow up and guilty heat burned his neck. “No,” she scoffed. “I hardly need you to point out everything inappropriate in speaking on a horse’s gestation, at the breakfast table, no less,” she muttered that last part under her breath.
No there wasn’t anything appropriate in such discourse. It was, however, the singularly most interesting thing any woman of his acquaintance had uttered…including Eloise. For her love of riding, she’d feared horses, and certainly hadn’t known a jot about their teeth or gestational period. He’d seen only Eloise for so long, he’d failed to appreciate that there were any women with an interest in the equine. And there was something…really rather captivating about a woman with that shared interest. A smile pulled at his lips. Lest she see it and again believe he made light of her, Richard promptly schooled his features. “I understand I’ve given you little reason to trust me.”
“No you haven’t,” she shot back, and a strand of hair fell over her brow. An urge grew to take that lock between his fingers and test whether the tresses that shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the dancing leaves overhead were as satiny soft as it appeared. She shoved it behind her ear, stealing that opportunity from him. Gemma advanced. “First, you kissed me.”
Which he’d greatly enjoyed. He retreated a step.
“Then,” she stretched out that single syllable. “Despite knowing I mistook you for another gentleman…” Which he did not like at all, for reasons that he also did not know or care to examine. Color flooded her cheeks. “You allowed me to bare my heart’s y—” This would assuredly be an inappropriate place to smile. He fixed on thoughts of their kisses and the satiny smoothness of her skin. Desirous musings that would kill all amusement. He swallowed a groan. Mayhap that was not the safest direction, after all. “Furthermore, Mr. Jonas,” she continued as she took another step. “You allowed me to confess secrets I’ve shared with only my dearest friend.”
He scowled. In knowing she’d spoken of Westfield with another, made her declaration to the gentleman…something more. Something unpleasant, indefinable, roiled in his belly. “You urged me to remain seated.”
Throwing her hands up, she emitted an exasperated sigh. “Because I believed you were Lord Westfield.” Which made her interest in Westfield even more real, and he didn’t quite know what to make of the odd tightening in his chest at that truth. She jabbed a long, gloveless finger in his chest, drawing his attention to the digit. “Then you spoke of horse vomit.” This lively figure before him was so vastly different than the shy, hesitant lady in the breakfast room. He far preferred her spitting and sparkling to the subdued miss she’d been earlier. It was a crime that a woman with her spirit should ever be so silenced.
“I am a horse breeder.”
Gemma opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. “What?” She tipped her head at an endearing angle.
Richard encircled her slender wrist within his fingers and removed it from his person. “I am a horse breeder,” he said again. “I suspected a lady knowledgeable about horse teeth and the gestational period of the creatures would appreciate that piece of information.” For as direct and unflinching as she’d been, speaking amidst the assembled guests, there had been nothing that marked her as squeamish. Rather, she’d spoken with a zeal that had…intrigued him.
Some of the fight seeped from her tautly held frame. “A horse breeder?”
He didn’t
“Do you mean you have not come here to mock me more than you have already done these past two days?” She shot an eyebrow up and guilty heat burned his neck. “No,” she scoffed. “I hardly need you to point out everything inappropriate in speaking on a horse’s gestation, at the breakfast table, no less,” she muttered that last part under her breath.
No there wasn’t anything appropriate in such discourse. It was, however, the singularly most interesting thing any woman of his acquaintance had uttered…including Eloise. For her love of riding, she’d feared horses, and certainly hadn’t known a jot about their teeth or gestational period. He’d seen only Eloise for so long, he’d failed to appreciate that there were any women with an interest in the equine. And there was something…really rather captivating about a woman with that shared interest. A smile pulled at his lips. Lest she see it and again believe he made light of her, Richard promptly schooled his features. “I understand I’ve given you little reason to trust me.”
“No you haven’t,” she shot back, and a strand of hair fell over her brow. An urge grew to take that lock between his fingers and test whether the tresses that shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the dancing leaves overhead were as satiny soft as it appeared. She shoved it behind her ear, stealing that opportunity from him. Gemma advanced. “First, you kissed me.”
Which he’d greatly enjoyed. He retreated a step.
“Then,” she stretched out that single syllable. “Despite knowing I mistook you for another gentleman…” Which he did not like at all, for reasons that he also did not know or care to examine. Color flooded her cheeks. “You allowed me to bare my heart’s y—” This would assuredly be an inappropriate place to smile. He fixed on thoughts of their kisses and the satiny smoothness of her skin. Desirous musings that would kill all amusement. He swallowed a groan. Mayhap that was not the safest direction, after all. “Furthermore, Mr. Jonas,” she continued as she took another step. “You allowed me to confess secrets I’ve shared with only my dearest friend.”
He scowled. In knowing she’d spoken of Westfield with another, made her declaration to the gentleman…something more. Something unpleasant, indefinable, roiled in his belly. “You urged me to remain seated.”
Throwing her hands up, she emitted an exasperated sigh. “Because I believed you were Lord Westfield.” Which made her interest in Westfield even more real, and he didn’t quite know what to make of the odd tightening in his chest at that truth. She jabbed a long, gloveless finger in his chest, drawing his attention to the digit. “Then you spoke of horse vomit.” This lively figure before him was so vastly different than the shy, hesitant lady in the breakfast room. He far preferred her spitting and sparkling to the subdued miss she’d been earlier. It was a crime that a woman with her spirit should ever be so silenced.
“I am a horse breeder.”
Gemma opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. “What?” She tipped her head at an endearing angle.
Richard encircled her slender wrist within his fingers and removed it from his person. “I am a horse breeder,” he said again. “I suspected a lady knowledgeable about horse teeth and the gestational period of the creatures would appreciate that piece of information.” For as direct and unflinching as she’d been, speaking amidst the assembled guests, there had been nothing that marked her as squeamish. Rather, she’d spoken with a zeal that had…intrigued him.
Some of the fight seeped from her tautly held frame. “A horse breeder?”
He didn’t
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