Page 82 of Tempting the Scoundrel
“Mr. Thorne! Mr. Thorne!”
“Oi, my little devils,” Thorne said, scooping Fi and Lottie up in each arm as he followed the others through the exhibit. “Anything caught your eye?”
Fi pointed her hand, which had grown pudgy with weight since Sofia became the orphanage’s manager. She fed her charges well. “There’s them animals, Mr. Thorne. I likes the . . .” she frowned, trying to remember the word.
“The birds,” Lottie corrected. “They’re ever so colorful, Mr. Thorne. From the Indies, they are. I’ve never seen any so beautiful.”
“Neither have I, sweetheart,” Thorne murmured, watching as Alex smiled at the children. “Neither have I.”
He had some wild urge to step forward, take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. In front of everyone. Let them look; let them see he belonged to her. Let the whole damn world know he was hers. She looked up and caught his stare. Thorne was fairly certain his desire was apparent, because she flushed and hid a smile. That smile was a gift for him alone.
Fiona tugged on Thorne’s neckcloth. “Mr. Thorne,” she whispered in his ear. “I likes the lady.”
Thorne grinned. “Do you?”
“Me too!” Lottie said, looping her arms around Thorne’s neck. “She gives us pastries. And she don’t mind so much when I pick the lock on ‘er door.”
“Good, because I intend to keep her.”
“Do you love her, Mr. Thorne?” Fiona asked.
Thorne followed as Alex and Sofia took the children through the hall. “Aye, girls,” he said. “I love her very much.”
Lottie sighed. “That’s ever so romantic.”
An image struck Thorne—one he would have once deemed impossible—of the children Alex might give him. He would carry them in each arm. Marvel at how much they looked like their ma. And he’d tell them how, after so many years, he adored his wife as much as the day they met.
Two real, squirming children interrupted his reverie. Fi gave a delighted squeak and wriggled to be let down. “Lottie! It’s the monkeys! I wanna go see up close!” Thorne released the girls and watched as they ran over to the primate exhibit.
Alex took that moment to approach him, leaving Sofia to watch over her charges. Any onlooker might think her smile polite and ladylike, but Thorne noticed the wicked glint in her eye. This was an intimate look for him alone. “Thank you for today,” she said, slipping her arm through his. Her gloved fingers brushed his palm, and he loathed that layer between them. He wished to see her ink stains, her callouses, the signs of her work, hidden beneath the soft leather. “As magnificent as your palace is, I was growing tired of staring at my manuscript.”
Thorne laughed softly. “One of the maids came to me in a state, said you shooed her away from cleaning again.”
Alex made a face. “Morag keeps eyeing my notes in distress.”
“They’re rather hard to miss, being all over the floor and on every available piece of furniture.”
“They’re organized!”
“Pfft.” He gave a soft laugh. “Looks like a bomb explosion. Even your bed is covered in bits of paper. I don’t see how you find anything.”
“That bed is where I keep my interview notes, and I knowexactlywhere everything is. Which I informed Morag at length when she shifted the December interviews closer to the March interviews thinking I wouldn’t notice. It ruined my focus for two days.”
“I can’t pretend to understand any of that, so I won’t.”
“Good. That means you are learning.” She looked smug. “And anyway, there’s no use in clearing off the bed now that I sleep in yours.”
Thorne grinned. Now he was imagining her back in his bed, naked and negotiating a new bedroom game. He let his gaze drop down her body and trail up again. Her pink day dress, modest thought it was, could not hide her curves. He knew what lay underneath: the dusting of freckles along her thighs, the soft arch of her hips, beautiful breasts, pink nipples. Utter fucking perfection.
She caught his stare and flushed. “You are thinking wicked things.”
“Sure am. Want me to describe them to you?”
Alex cast a look around them, but they hardly drew notice in the middle of such a crowded hall. In a low voice, she said, “Perhaps I do.”
“Mr. Thorne? Lady Alexandra?” Sofia’s voice drew their attention. The manager waited there with an understanding expression on her face. “The children are ready to progress to the India Annex.”
“Go ahead, Mrs. Ainsley,” Thorne said. “We’ll join you in a few moments.”
