Page 5 of Love a Lady at Midnight

Bax made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “Have you told her?”

“No. But we… shared a night together.” Was it caddish to tell them such a secret? He held his breath, waiting for their reactions.

“That’s promising,” Cass said. “I won’t ask you if she enjoyed herself, but it’s a question you should have an answer to nonetheless.” He grinned. “Look at me, asking the right question. Proud of me, Bax?”

Bax grunted, rolled his eyes. “So very much. My brother has a point.”

“Yes.” Jackson ground the words like meal between his teeth. “We both enjoyed ourselves.”

“Said you didn’t have to answer it out loud,” Cass grumbled.

Theyhadenjoyed themselves, despite Jackson’s inexperience. That was not what held them apart. It was Gwendolyn who would not touch him as herself. Once dawn had crept into that little Parisian tower room, she’d fled from him once more, met him only as a friend and research partner from sunrise to sunset.

Bax stood, crossed the room, and opened a cabinet from which he pulled a crystal decanter sloshing with amber liquid. He tossed the contents into three crystal tumblers and took his seat once more, passing Jackson and Cass a glass.

He arched an eyebrow at Jackson. “May I ask you a few questions?”

Jackson nodded. Why not? “You have a precise analytical mind I admire. Perhaps you can help me discover a solution I’ve not yet considered.”

Bax nodded.

Cass groaned, pouring half the brandy down his throat. He stood and began to gather the crumpled cravats from the floor.

Bax ignored his brother. “What is your aim?” he asked Jackson. “What are your intentions with Miss Smith?”

“Marriage.” He’d had one night, and now he wanted all the others. He’d always wanted all the others, but their one night had sparked a fire of impatience inside him that he could not douse.

“Clearly defined goal. Good. And I assume you have not asked her to marry you… or have you?”

Jackson shook his head. “She would not welcome it.”

“Do you know why?”

“I assume it’s because she knows her answer will kill me.”

“Dramatic,” Cass said. “I like it.”

“But why are you assured of her negative response?” Bax asked.

Jackson let his head fall back onto the chair. “She has a secret of some import. She speaks of it to no one.”

“Curious,” Bax said.

“Frustrating,” Jackson mumbled.

Cass held a few cravats in their direction. “You could always tie her up. Does she like that sort of thing?”

Bax turned his back on his brother. “Ignore him.”

But Jackson made a mental note about the tying up. If she did like that sort of thing, he would not be against it.

“Other than your one night,” Bax continued, “has she ever pursued you?”

“No.” Not even on their one night. He’d been the one to chase her. He always was.

Cass sat, the cravats piled high in his lap. “When we were in Paris together, you should have seen it, Bax. Jackson here’s like a little lost puppy, following her about, teasing her, shooting her longing looks.”

“Am not,” Jackson said. Although, in the quiet of his own mind, he knew the truth.