Page 20 of Tempting Fate

Finding his presence intense after she’d only just caught herself harboring inappropriate thoughts about him, Felicity turned to her bookshelf, sliding her novel in its place.

“May I ask what you were reading?” His question was cautious, almost shy, which stymied her.

This man had an air of someone who asked permission from no one. He was built roughly, with barbaric dimensions. He addressed her staff with unerring composure and confidence.

Even when he moved, it was with the motions of a man who claimed the ground he stood upon and dared anyone to challenge that claim. Who owned and carefully chose his actions to flawless effect.

Addressing her, however, seemed to cause him a bit of bother.

“I’m readingThe Gilded Seaby Daphne Crane.”

“I’ve not heard of that one,” he admitted, again sounding oddly sheepish.

Damned if it didn’t charm her.

“It’s a romantic adventure,” she pressed on. “I’m positively absorbed.”

“That was evident.”

How long had he watched her? Felicity’s mouth dried at the thought. Could a man as observant as he have noticed the wicked effects her novel wrought upon her?

“A-are you much of a reader, Mr. Severand?”

“I’m voracious.”

That word. In that voice.Dear Lord.She sank back to the chaise, pressing her thighs back together and folding her hands over her lap to keep from squirming.

What waswrongwith her?

“What-what is it you read?” she queried, hoping he’d take the conversation so she could recover some of her wits.

“I like a bit of adventure, myself. And comedy. Satire. Notably, Hugo and Verne. Most recently, Wilde.”

“Oscar Wilde?” she exclaimed. “I have heard he’s working on a new play. Do you have plans to see it?”

“I’ve… never been to the theater.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Though he seemed dressed rather well, it was altogether likely that the theater was a luxury he might not afford.

He said nothing. And she cast about to fill the silence.

“Might I offer you an aperitif, Mr. Severand? Brandy, perhaps?” She stood, happy to busy herself at the sideboard.

“Do you have cognac?”

My, he said that word with such a flare. She wondered if he knew French.

What an enigma this man was.

“Indeed.” She took the decanter and uncorked it, trying not to seem too curious.

Too eager.

Because she was.

“Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Severand. This job isn’t taking you away from a family, I hope. A wife? Children?” She poured him a generous drink and splashed some into a glass for herself.

She’d never tried cognac before. It wasn’t done for females to partake in polite society. But something told her Mr. Severand wouldn’t like to drink alone.