Page 29 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
She looked up at the sky, squinting, holding out a hand, catching some. To his surprise, she walked over to him, holding out one finger, upon which lay a single snowflake, smiling brightly.
“Look,” she gasped, her eyes widening. “Look how beautiful it is.”
He leaned over, examining the snowflake, his heart racing as he caught a whiff of her perfume. “Yes,” he murmured, staring at the flake. “Very beautiful. They never appear exactly the same—they are all slightly different.”
“They are,” she replied, her eyes still focused on the flake, turning her finger around so she could see it better. “I have studied many since I was a girl… and I have never seen two that are the same.”
He stared at her, reaching over, brushing a hand along the eyelashes on her right eye, before he could stop himself. She jumped, her eyes widening, staring at him.
He held out his finger to her. “A flake fell onto your eyelashes,” he said, in a soft voice. “Look.”
Color rose up her neck, suffusing her face. She visibly swallowed, before gaining her composure, peering at the snowflake on the end of his finger. He knew she felt it as intensely as he did—he could tell by the way she reacted to him. Miss Bomind might appear composed, but he knew that beneath that calm lily pond surface, there was raging, primal passion.
The desire intensified as he kept gazing at her. He wanted to push her to the ground and fall on top of her; plunge himself deep inside her, to finally feel what it would be like for his body to connect with hers…
He took a step back, fighting the urge. He should have stayed away from her. He knew it. Even being close to her in such an innocent way was too much for him.
“Perhaps we should return to the house,” he said, in a voice thickened by desire. “It is getting rather cold.”
She murmured assent. They started walking toward the house, not looking at each other. The air between them was so heavy with sexual tension it was like a physical force. He restrained the urge to reach out and grab her hand.
“How is Lenore progressing with her studies?” he asked abruptly, glancing at her sideways.
Miss Bomind sighed. “She tries very hard, Your Grace. But I feel she did not make much progress with her previous governesses, as they never stayed that long.” She gazed at him. “She is a bit behind where she should be for her age.”
Ian felt a flicker of pain. “Damn those governesses,” he muttered, shaking his head. “They were all so incompetent.” He paused. “At least she has a good governess now. For I do believe you have a gift for teaching, Miss Bomind, even if you let your tongue run away with you sometimes. Lenore responds to you in a way she has never responded before.”
She looked pleased. Her cheeks colored again. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am trying my best.” Her mouth twitched. “Even if I do speak my mind more than I should sometimes.”
He laughed. “How are the lessons coming along about the birds?”
Her eyes brightened. “My lady is enjoying the lessons very much,” she said, smiling at him. “And we are still going to visit the robin’s nest every morning.” She hesitated. “The book that you recommended has been invaluable to me.”
They looked at each other, their eyes locking. Ian was remembering the night he had given it to her, and he could tell that she was remembering it, as well. The night when they had almost kissed again. If not for the fact she had turned and suddenly walked away, he wasn’t sure where it would have ended. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to control himself.
I want her like I haven’t wanted any woman since Mary. It is like a fever that has infected my blood. I cannot think of anything but having her.
They kept walking in silence for a while. Ian felt his heart surge. It was nice just walking with her and not speaking. He felt comfortable with her enough that he didn’t feel the need to fill silence with pointless chatter, even as his strong desire for herset him on edge. It was a strange paradox, and he couldn’t quite understand it.
But then, Miss Bomind was a strange paradox, herself. A prim woman, with a calm exterior, which disguised a strong wit, razor sharp mind, and innate sensuality, that she had in all likelihood never explored.
His loins stirred again. It was an irresistible combination.
“I was wondering,” she said suddenly, turning to him, “if Lady Lenore and I could decorate the house for Christmas.” She drew a deep breath. “At least, the main rooms that are used.”
He turned and stared at her, not believing his ears.
And then she has to go and say something that enrages me yet again.
“No,” he barked, glaring at her, rage filling his blood. “I believe I have expressed my feelings about the Christmas season enough that you are well aware where I stand on such a subject, Miss Bomind.”
She frowned. “But…”
“No buts,” he said, barely able to breathe with indignation. “Did I not tell you that you need to mind your place? Did you not listen to me?”
She flushed hard. “Well, if that is your final word on the matter…”
“It is,” he shot back, scowling at her. “Good day, Miss Bomind.”
