Page 66 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“You are never an interruption,” Minerva said. “Would you care for some tea?”
“I would love some. One lump of sugar, no cream. I lost an affinity for cream on my various journeys away from civilization. Quite impossible to transport.”
Minerva took her seat, aware that Burleigh sat just a little nearer to her. Ashebury took the chair closest to her. “You must have missed having tea on your travels.”
“On the contrary, a gentleman always takes tea with him, even into the wilds.”
“I don’t see how one could properly prepare tea in the wilds,” Burleigh said.
“Oh, it can be done,” Ashebury said. “You must readThe Art of Travel, Burleigh. Fascinating. You’d be surprised what one can and is willing to do out of necessity.” Taking the cup Minerva offered, he sipped the brew. “Darjeeling. Excellent.”
“I’m not certain I’ve ever had a gentleman identify the type of tea before.”
“I have a refined palate. I can distinguish the flavors of almost everything that carries a unique taste: wine, spirits, tea.” His eyes darkening, he lowered his gaze to her lips, and she realized what he had left unsaid: a woman’s kiss, her mouth.
Shifting in her seat, Minerva took a most unladylike swallow of her own tea. Silence began to ease around them. She noticed the teacup resting on Ashebury’s firm thigh, thought how much more delicate it appeared there than it did on Burleigh’s thigh. While Burleigh was broader than Ashebury, Ashebury seemed larger. Perhaps it was because his clothes fit so well, leaving no doubt that he didn’t possess an ounce of fat. It could also be that she knew the feel of that thigh beneath her sole, knew that it provided a very secure place upon which a saucer could rest.
“What were you discussing before I interrupted?” Ashebury asked.
“The merits of age,” Minerva said, hoping he wasn’t aware of where her gaze or her thoughts had drifted.
“Of wine?”
“Of ladies.”
“That seems rather inappropriate. The ladies I know are so secretive about their ages.”
“We were discussing that older ladies don’t giggle like silly younger ones,” Burleigh said impatiently.
“What’s wrong with giggling?” Ashebury asked.
“It’s irritating. I don’t want a wife who giggles. Miss Dodger is not prone to giggling.”
Ashebury’s gaze came to bear on her. “Is she not? I wager I could make her giggle.”
“Why would you want to?” Burleigh asked.
“Why would you not?”
“As I mentioned, it’s irritating.”
“On the contrary, Burleigh, it’s a joyous sound. A woman should giggle at least once a day.” His gaze never left her.
She noticed a faint tinkling sound, Burleigh’s teacup rattling slightly on the saucer, as he was growing agitated. He was her guest. She couldn’t let Ashebury unsettle him so. “How does one make tea in the wilds?” she asked.
Ashebury gave her a slow smile, and she knew he was fully aware that she was attempting to defuse the situation. “A fire, a kettle, a teapot, and tea.”
“The same way one makes tea in civilization,” Burleigh said.
“A little variance here and there. We did end up giving our kettle, teapot, and some tea to a tribal chief. He was rather fascinated by the process. I’m not sure where he’ll obtain tea once he’s used up all that we left. Would you like to see a photograph ofhim?”
“No,” Burleigh answered as Minerva said, “Yes.”
“I cannot deny a lady her desires,” Ashebury said, setting aside his cup before shifting his body from the chair to the edge of the sofa cushion.
Minerva slid over quickly to prevent his landing on her, which only served to nestle her up against Burleigh. She was acutely aware of the man stiffening, couldn’t imagine Ashebury reacting in a similar manner. If he found a woman up against him, he would no doubt curl around her.
A small smile played over Ashebury’s lips. The bugger was enjoying manipulating them, making Burleigh uncomfortable. She shouldn’t find herself drawn to him when he was misbehaving so, and yet, she couldn’t seem to work up any annoyance over it. Burleigh hadn’t done anything wrong, but neither had he done anything right. She wasn’t attracted to him. His suit of her would go nowhere. She should probably tell him. Later. When Ashebury was no longer here.
