A Study In Seduction(53)
After Talia declined her offer of assistance, Lydia sat on the sofa in the upstairs study, her head down as she wrote in her notebook.
“Why are you always carrying that thing?” Northwood asked.
“Because if I don’t write down my ideas as they come to me, I fear they’ll come out my ears.” Lydia looked up and smiled as he stepped into the room.
Not returning her smile, he gestured to the book. “What is it this time?”
“Wha—Oh. One of the papers I’m working on relates to the dimensions of the roots of equations. When we were on the train, I had the idea that the theorem might be simplified by the extrication of a lemma.” She studied her book. “That is, if the lemma were to give all the values of r… it could represent the dimensions of the roots.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know. And that’s rather gratifying.” Lydia closed the book. “Though I suppose it’s impolite to work when I’ve been invited here as a guest. The manor is lovely, my lord. Thank you again for the invitation.”
He was still frowning at her. Apparently the travel hadn’t done his temper any good.
“Why are you in such an ill humor?” she asked. “Will a walk in the garden lighten your mood?”
She rose to pass him and, as she did, he turned to her so suddenly that Lydia took a step backward and came up against the wall. Before she could move aside, he put his hands on either side of her, trapping her between the wall and his body.
Lydia gasped, her gaze flying to the study door, which stood half open.
“No one is near,” Northwood murmured.
He shifted his hips against her, making her pulse stutter. “Still, you… you must release me.”
“Make me laugh, and I will.” His lips touched her temple.
“What?”
“Make me laugh, lighten my humor, and I’ll release you.”
Make him laugh? Despite her remark, she wasn’t exactly a fountain of hilarity.
Lydia searched her brain for an amusing anecdote. She could think of theorems and proofs with no effort at all—surely some witticism or conundrum would spring to the surface.
“I’m waiting.” Northwood shifted against her again, his knee beginning to push between hers. Lydia flushed, curving her hands around his forearms as she fought the urge to allow him access, to press herself against the hard length of his thigh.
“At what time was Adam married?” she blurted.
“Adam who?”
“Adam. The first man. Adam.”
“Oh.” Northwood lifted a brow. “At what time was he married?”
“Upon his wedding Eve.” She gave him a weak smile.
Not a spark of amusement flashed in his eyes. He shook his head. His knee pressed with more insistence, causing her legs to part. Air wafted up beneath her skirt and petticoats. She shuddered.
“What…” Her breath caught. Her mind whirled. “What… er… what is the proper length of a lady’s skirt?”
“What?”
“A little above two feet.”
“Hmm. Not funny. Not true, either.” His hands fisted in the folds of her skirt, his eyes darkening. “The proper length is well above her knees, as far as I’m concerned.”
Oh good heavens. He was drawing her skirt up, and her petticoats along with it. The material of his trousers brushed against her calves, his knee sliding upward between her thighs. Heat bloomed through her, a tightness centering in her sex and making her want to writhe against him.
She swallowed. Some faint but still rational part of her mind reminded her anyone could walk into the study.
“What…” She squirmed, trying to avoid the insistent caress of his leg. “What is that which can be right but never wrong?”
“An angle,” he replied. His lips skimmed her forehead. Her skin tingled.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Me.”
He laughed. His eyes creased at the corners, his teeth flashing white in the pale light of the sun coming through the windows. The deep laugh rumbled through his chest, causing a shiver of pleasure to ripple over her.
“You… you ought to release me now.” Lydia tried to bring her legs together, tried to quell the intense arousal that this man could spark with a mere touch.
Amusement still glinted in his eyes as he gave a slow nod, the movement bringing his lips in line with hers.