I know many of those men, and theyre little willing to accept me as one of theirs.
Its in the approach. If you go at them head-on, they become cornered dogs, snarling and bristling. But a slower side advance might yield better response. Perhaps not a tail wagging, but at least a tentative sniff. That is far better than a bite.
A smile tilted the corner of his mouth. I believe you are calling these noblemen sons of bitches.
She bit back a shocked laugh. Some men of science theorize that humans are merely animals. Ive been to assembliesmy conclusion is that animals are more civilized.
How do you propose we tame these savage dogs?
Through the bitchesI mean, the wives.
Bitches, Leo confirmed.
Again, Anne found herself appalled ... and also thrilled by his candor. A few morning calls on the right wives could secure us any number of advantages. Including invitations to private gatherings and dinner.
Outsider Leo might be, but he recognized the benefit of dining with select company. Alliances fashioned over the roast, and confederacy shaped between after-dinner glasses of brandy. Anne actually disliked paying calls, and had found them exceedingly tedious when her mother dragged her along on them. Either the conversations were full of meaningless prattle, or else scandals were dragged forth with all the glee of a resurrectionist procuring a corpse.
Seldom have I received dinner invitations, he noted.
Single men might not. There are advantages to marriage.
His gaze, suddenly hot, raked over her, and she struggled to keep from folding her arms protectively across her chest. Yet deep within her, a quick flare of response ignited.
Im aware of some of the advantages, he murmured.
Anne dropped her gaze. Last night, as he had slept, she stared at the shapes his body made beneath the bedclothes, their solidity and strength. He heated the bed far more than any warming pan, and as the nights chill had seeped into the room, she had wanted to press herself against him. Only partly for warmth.
Doors may open for you now. Married men are seen as more respectable than bachelors. She traced the knotted pattern on the counterpane. Less threatening, too.
Leo made a soft noise, something akin to a laugh, though absent of any humor. Perception and the truth seldom overlap.
She glanced up. Are you a threat?
To you, never.
Some comfort in that, yet she did not miss what was couched in his response. But his gaze warmed as he looked down at her.
You would do thatpay calls, wrangle invitationsfor me? He sounded bewildered, a man little used to kindness.
We are married now. If we do not take care of each other, who shall? It was more than matrimonial duty, however. She had heard the hurt throbbing beneath his words last night, the wounds that pained him still, despite, or because of, his pride. And pride Leo had in abundance. Not unlike the lion with which he shared a name.
Here was something she could provide for Leo. Something he could neither be born into nor buy. She discovered she wanted to give him something. For all the abundance of things in his home, his clothespress full of expensive garments, even those Hellraisers he called friends, he had very little truly his own, bestowed
on him simply for the gratification of giving.
I ... He searched for words, perplexed. And then, Thank you.
Her cheeks heated, her pleasure intensified by the simplicity and honesty of his language.
With slow ceremony, he took her hand in his. Turned it so that her knuckles faced up. His gaze held hers, and she felt herself planted firmly where she sat, unable to move or even breathe. Then, unhurriedly, he bent and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers.
It was not an unmannerly kiss. Not lascivious or coarse. Yet for all that, the touch of his firm, warm lips to her fingers sent dragon coils of hunger twisting through her. A contraction of want tightened between her thighs.
I would say that youre too good for me, he said, his breath its own caress on her skin, but I want good things. With equal leisure, he released her hand and straightened. At the very least, the tightness in his jaw revealed that the courtly gesture had affected him, too.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, spinning the fine threads between them into something stronger.
I do have a request of you, he said finally.
She nodded, eager.
His gaze shifted away and followed the thorny convolutions painted upon the wallpaper. Ever since my father made his fortune and sent me away to school, I developed ... well ... one might call it an odd habit. A compulsion, you might say. Ive become a collector. A collector of coins.
That does not sound very odd. Many men collect coinsancient coins, or from other countries. Her own father had been too lacking in resources to have anything remotely resembling a gentlemans cabinet of curiosities. Rather than accrue small treasures, antiquities or animal bones, her father collected letters demanding payment. Occasionally, those debts would be paid.