Page 49 of Anything But a Duke
“That’s my confession. That’s my secret. Now it’s your turn, Miss Ashby,” he prompted.
She was silent so long, he thought she might balk. But finally, she whispered, “I think on that night too. Far too much.”
Aidan reached for her, not desperately as he had that night, but slowly, letting his fingers skate across her skin before clasping her arm. He swept his thumb against her skin. She was so warm, so soft.
She tipped her head back, knowing exactly what he intended. That only made him want her more.
Aidan took her mouth in a hungry kiss and she opened to him instantly. He swept his tongue inside, tasting the tart sweetness of lemonade. Then he lifted his head to look at her.
“We should get back,” she whispered.
Without waiting for his reply, she pulled out of his grasp and slipped out of the room. A moment after she’d left, he followed.
As he made his way back to the drawing room, he sucked in a deep lungful of air. Then another. Diana’s scent was all he could smell, and his body responded as if she was still close enough to touch.
Control yourself, man.
He reminded himself why he was there. He wanted Diana Ashby. That was no longer possible to deny.
But he wanted more. Power. Success. Belonging.
He forced his mind to the industrial exhibition, to the prospect of gaining entry to an exclusive club like the Parthenon and then finding no door in London’s social, political, or financial world closed to him.
Straightening his tie and tugging at the lapels of his coat, he drew in one last calming breath.
He needed his wits about him tonight. He had an earl’s daughter to woo.
Chapter Fifteen
Diana looked down and checked the address she’d scribbled on a scrap of paper before exiting the hack. Once she’d determined it was Iverson’s office building, she stopped on the pavement and worked to steady her nerves.
She hadn’t seen the man since Sophie’s dinner party three days ago. He might have made a decision to propose to her friend, for all she knew.
What she did know, what had played in her mind for days, was that she’d kissed him. Again. That had to stop.
Between her and Aidan Iverson, there was nothing but a business arrangement.
She’d been telling herself that for three days and still wasn’t quite convinced.
He’d invited her to his office to discuss prospective buyers for her device. Just as he’d promised he’d do. The man was scrupulously maintaining his side of their bargain. And, practically speaking, she was too.
Practical matters were, after all, where she excelled.
But she couldn’t resist peeking at herself in the reflection of the spotless window glass. After lifting a hand to pinch some color into her cheeks, she tucked a few wayward curls back into her simple coiffure.
She growled at her own reflection in frustration. Nervous energy boiled inside her and she wished that human beings could release steam as easily as water set on a hot burner.
Rather than go inside and face him, she paced, traversing the same stretch of pavement back and forth until the muscles of her legs warmed and her nerves settled.
She turned back toward the steps leading up to Iverson’s office. Half a dozen steps. Easily scaled. Harder to overcome were the odd impulses that seemed to rear up whenever he was near.
Once inside, she knocked at a frosted-glass door, and a youthful, slick-haired man answered with a pleasant smile.
“You must be Miss Ashby. Mr. Iverson is expecting you.” He led her to a small, tidy room with a massive desk and chairs tucked against wainscoting on the opposite wall. Nothing luxurious. Just sensible and practical furnishings. She liked the space immediately.
The clerk rapped once quietly on what Diana guessed was Iverson’s door, but there was no response from the other side.
“Mr. Iverson will be with you soon.” The young man rounded a large desk and stood anxiously behind his chair. “My name is Mr. Coggins. May I offer you a cup of tea while you wait?”
