Page 36 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
“Did you happen to see the baboons?” she asked.
“Not the direction I expected this conversation to take.”
“You were not providing any direction. I had to make do.”
“Yes, I did see the baboons. Why do you ask?”
“Beautiful creatures.”
Cass leaned in and whispered, “You cannot truly mean that?”
She bristled. “Of course I do!”
His fingers twitched to smooth the groove between her eyes. He let his words do the work instead. “Very well, then. Yes, Miss Cavendish, the animal is… charming.”
“I’ve never seen such a vibrantly colored…”
He coughed. “Arse?”
Her head turned slowly, and she lifted a calm countenance to him. “That is not charming language, Lord Albee.”
“I’ve done little else but curse around you since we met. Are you surprised?”
“True.”
He waved a hand toward the baboons. “But how canarsebe inappropriate when it’s anatomically correct?” He pulled his red notebook from his pocket, opened it to where the stubby pencil rested between two blank pages, and scribbled notes.Do not refer to arses or otherwise in the presence of ladies.
“There are other words you can use, though.” She turned back to the baboon and tilted her head, pursing her lips. “I begin to wonder if one should refer to its unusual backside—backside, there’s an option for you, Lord Albee—at all.” She closed her eyes and frowned.
“What do you see in the darkness that distresses you so?” His fingers twitched, reached out, flicked against her hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves.
“Not distresses. The twins. That’s all they could think about when they saw the baboons—their… rears—another option for you, Lord Albee.” She lifted a hand to her mouth, but not before the hint of a chuckle escaped.
He reached out, more purposefully now, and pushed his knuckles against hers. “What makes you laugh?”
“As the twins danced from the baboons, they were reciting an instantaneously made-up song about colorful…”
“Backsides?”
“Precisely. They are quite creative. A song or rhyme for everything, but most especially those things having to do with—”
“Backsides?”
“How’d you know?”
He shrugged. “I used to be a young boy.”
She snorted. “I must admit to being impressed with the twins. I lecture and tell them to stop because I must, but inside I’m laughing. They once rhymedregentwithNorwegian.”
“Those barely rhyme.”
“The cleverness lay in the context.” She seemed far away, reliving moments and joys he had not part of.
He wanted her here, with him, not lost in her memories, fond as they may be, of her family. He wanted to touch her skin and have her leap out of it. He wanted to see awareness, of him, spark to life in her green, green eyes. He should ignore these longings.
He inched closer. “Should I try?”
“Try what?”
