Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1)(22)

That was how much he could see at his best. And for once, that seemed like a blessing. He might have been addled by the feel, scent, and taste of Miss Goodnight last night . . . but at least he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the sight of her. At best, she’d appear to him as an anemic, pale column with dark hair. Bland and uninspiring.

He was counting on it.

But as she entered his view, she had the wretched luck to pause just in front of the castle’s eastern archway, which was flooded by morning sun.

His first glimpse of Izzy Goodnight was to see her bathed in gold. The sunlight showed him, in blazing relief, a slender, gracefully curved silhouette and a corona of wild, loose hair that seemed to be afire.

Holy God.

If he’d been standing, he might have dropped to his knees. He was sure he heard a choir singing. This was the kind of beauty that one could rightly call “striking.”

As in, he felt struck by a brick.

Move, he silently begged her. Take two steps to the right. Or the left. No, no. Just leave entirely.

“I didn’t think you were awake,” he said.

“Oh, I’m awake.” He saw a smile—a wide, reddish curve—bloom across her face.

He ran his gaze down her body, taking in the hazy but quite evident curves of her bosom and hips. He’d held all that against him last night. And now he couldn’t fathom why on earth he’d let it go.

“Believe me,” she said, “I’ve been awake since the batwing crack of dawn. I’ve been exploring my castle.”

Right. That was why.

With a whistle to Magnus, he headed back inside.

She followed him, of course. All the way into the great hall.

“Do you know,” she said, yawning a sultry yawn, “this place really is lovely in the morning. The way the sunlight comes through the windows, taking all that dust in the air and whirling it into gold. We had a rocky start yesterday, but today . . . Gostley Castle is starting to feel like home.”

No, no, no. This was not home. Not for her, and most definitely not for them.

“Did you . . . want to put on a shirt, Your Grace?” she suggested.

In reply, he crossed his arms over his bare chest. He wasn’t doing anything to make her more comfortable.

“I’ll make tea,” she said, moving toward the hearth. “Oh, look. Fresh bread.” When next she spoke, she did so with her mouth full of it. “Did Duncan fetch this, or does someone bring it up? I know there was milk yesterday.” She poked around, making busy clanging noises. “I don’t suppose there are eggs? If I do say it myself, I make a very good pancake.”

Oh, no. This just grew worse and worse.

I make a very good pancake.

Appalling.

What was even more appalling was that Ransom found himself suddenly hungry for a very good pancake. Starving. Ravenous. Damn it, he was faint with yearning for a very good pancake.

Any self-respecting rake had two kinds of women in his life: those he took to bed at night and those who made him a pancake in the morning. If he suddenly wanted both from the same woman, it was a warning flag. One big and red enough for even a blind man to see.

Get out now. The threat is coming from inside the castle.

“Keep your breakfast simple,” he said. “And quick. Duncan will take you to the village this morning. We’ll see about finding you lodging in the inn, or—”

“Oh, I’d love to go into the village,” she said. “But only for provisions. What sort of fish do you have hereabouts? I’d wager there are some lovely trout in the river.”

Ransom gritted his teeth. There were, indeed, lovely trout in the river. Miss Goodnight was never going to taste them.

He rose to his feet. “You need to understand. You cannot stay here. Not after what happened between us last night.”

“Last night,” she repeated. “Yes. Do you mean the part where you tried to frighten me off from a property that’s legally mine?”

“No. I mean the part where we kissed like illicit lovers.”

“Oh.” She drew out the word. “That. But we both know that was nothing.”

Nothing? Offended, he pushed a hand through his hair. “That was not nothing.”

“It was one kiss. One kiss doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course one kiss changes things. If it’s done right, a kiss changes everything. A kiss is the first step on a long, winding, quite perilous path of sensuality. This morning, Miss Goodnight, is where you turn back.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“I promise, Your Grace. I won’t fling myself at you again. I wanted a kiss, and you gave me one. You are safe from my curiosity.”

God. So that’s what this was. The girl was letting him down gently. In his eagerness to get a first glance at her, he’d forgotten that she’d be doing the same—taking her first well-lit look at him, and all his scars. Or her second proper look, if he included the time she’d swooned.

You’re not a handsome, swaggering buck anymore, you fool.

She went on, “When we’re not at work with your correspondence, the castle will keep me fully occupied. There’s a great deal to be done here. Rooms to survey. Vermin to purge. A proper bedchamber to furnish.” She dropped into a chair nearby. “Bread?”

She touched his hand with a hunk of bread. He took it, resentfully, and tore off a bite with his teeth.