As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(31)
“Of course,” he muttered, struggling to keep from smiling.
She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head suspiciously. A lock of ebony hair had loosened from its pin and dangled against the side of her neck, and he itched to touch it, even knowing the slap that might very well result. “Why do I think you’re not really interested in learning about my school days, Carlisle?”
“But I am.” Know thy enemy. And at that moment, he wanted to know everything about her.
“Then you should know that everything I have ever studied was to make myself more valuable to this company,” she declared with a quiet intensity, her eyes flashing with fire and determination. “I have dreamt of working beside my father since I was a little girl. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t surrender that dream.”
Then they were in trouble. Because no matter how much he was coming to understand now why the company meant so much to her, Robert had no intention of surrendering it himself.
“It must have been difficult for you,” he said sympathetically, keeping the conversation focused on her instead of putting them at odds again. Because when she wasn’t fighting him, she was quite enjoyable. “Losing your mother at such a tender age.”
Grief flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant, leaving only a lingering sadness behind. She shrugged a shoulder and looked away. “I suppose it’s difficult to lose one’s parent no matter how old you are.”
His chest tightened, and he admitted quietly, “It is.”
“Mama was a wonderful woman,” she continued, reaching for her muff to keep her fingers busy by pulling idly at the fur. “I cannot imagine how different my life might have been had she not caught that fever—” Her voice broke, and she froze, her fingers stilling. Then she drew a deep breath and divulged softly, “It was harder for Evelyn. She was younger, and at first, she couldn’t understand what happened, why Mama had gone away.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Robert’s heart went out to her. He’d witnessed firsthand the grief that his own sister had suffered upon his father’s death. He would have done anything to bring her solace, just as he was certain Mariah would have done for Evelyn. In that, at least, they agreed.
“I’m worried about her,” she confessed in a whisper. “She seems so…lost these days.” She looked up at him hopefully, a thought striking her. “Would your mother mind if Evie benefits from my season, too? The distraction might do her good. Perhaps she could come to the soirees and events that I’m forced to attend.”
Forced to attend. He fought back a smile at her defiance. Even in the midst of concern over her sister, she’d bared her claws.
“Two young ladies to fuss over?” he teased. “My mother would adore it.”
“Good. Evie needs guidance, and—”
She turned toward him, stopping in mid-sentence with a soft hitch of her breath at finding him so close. Her green eyes dropped to stare at his mouth, and she swallowed hard, as if remembering the taste of him and longing to experience it again. God certainly knew he wanted to.
“You were saying?” he prompted when she continued to stare at him, as if trying to fathom him and yesterday’s embrace.
Then her gaze darted over his shoulder toward the outer office, checking up on the dandy out there. And gauging the privacy between them in here.
“Tell me, Carlisle…why do you want this partnership so much?” she whispered, her gaze intense. “Why would it matter to someone like you?”
“Someone like me?” A touch of pique sparked inside him.
“The brother of a duke, wealthy, educated, refined—when he wants to be,” she added quickly in afterthought, which drew a crooked grin of amusement from him, despite himself. “Why would you want to work with a shipping company?”
“Why not?” he evaded with a small shrug. The last thing he would do was share his need to prove himself. They were beginning to trust each other, albeit tentatively, but he would never share that.
Her eyes narrowed. She was too sharp to fall for prevarication. She opened her mouth to press—
“Mariah?” Whitby stuck his ginger-haired head into the inner office. “Are you going to be much longer? We really should get on to Mayfair.”
“Just one moment,” she called out over Robert’s shoulder, her gaze never leaving his.
“All right,” Whitby acquiesced, and Robert nearly rolled his eyes at the man’s lack of spine. What could she possibly see in that milksop? “But I’m to meet up with my brothers at Boodle’s soon.”
Ignoring Whitby, she whispered low enough that he could barely hear, “This partnership can’t possibly mean that much to you.”
“More than you know,” he answered in the same intense voice, his gaze once more drawn to her sensuous mouth. Just a small lowering of his head, and his lips would be on hers, tasting again that spicy-sweetness he’d begun to crave—
“Mariah?” Whitby called out again, and Robert gritted his teeth. Forget siege warfare. Apparently Whitby’s weapon of choice was hounding one to death.
“You should go,” he urged her quietly, then pushed himself away from the desk, ending their conversation before she could trap him into other topics he had no intention of discussing. “Whitby!” he called out with far more jocularity than he felt. “Nice to see you again.”