Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(38)

“Very well what, Justine?” he prompted, giving in to his darker angels.

He usually gave in to his darker angels, but somehow it felt all the sweeter with her. Damned if he knew why, because he had no intention of seducing her. Despite her innate sensuality, Justine was an innocent and a vulnerable one at that. Griffin had no doubt that with time and patience he could seduce her. The idea of that had a far greater pull on him than it should. But he had a policy of never interfering with innocents or women vulnerable to any sort of predation. Not to mention that he had no intention of ever falling into the parson’s trap, the sure consequence of an affair with Justine Brightmore. His fitful conscience would see to that, as would Dominic Hunter, who would drag him to the altar at gunpoint—after a right proper thrashing, he had no doubt.

Justine Brightmore was thus forbidden fruit. That did not mean, however, that he couldn’t enjoy playing with her, just a little bit.

She gave him an adorable little grimace. “Very well, Griffin, but only on the rare occasions we find each other in private, or with Uncle Dominic. It might be confusing to address each other so informally in front of the servants.”

Griffin didn’t give a damn what the servants thought, but there was no point in pushing her. She’d only go into retreat and he didn’t want that. In fact, he wanted to know a great deal more about her than he already did, and that meant he’d have to get her to trust him.

As to why he wanted to know more about a bluestocking spinster, he chalked it up to simple curiosity and his need to know everything he could about people who came into his orbit. Never mind that his pulse had started hammering when he pushed through the kitchen door and beheld her, her eyes widening and her lush, pink mouth dropping open in surprise. Never mind that her creamy cheeks had flushed and that her gaze had then dropped shyly to her feet, drawing his most aggressive sexual instincts to the surface. Good thing, in fact, that she’d held the baby in her arms. If she’d been down here on her own, he would have been hard-pressed not to seize her in his arms, deposit her on the table, and push her legs wide to reveal the luscious secrets of her body.

He was not going to think about that, because the idea of making love to Justine Brightmore, as appealing as it was in the abstract, bordered on insanity—especially since she was no more beautiful than any number of women he knew, most of whom expended a considerable amount of energy trying to bed him.

Well, though he wouldn’t be bedding Justine Brightmore, he did want to know her. She intrigued him, and the cynic in him proposed that her difference from most of the people in his life was the key to her attraction. Griffin supposed that was as good an explanation as any.

She rocked the sleepy baby in her arms, regarding Griffin with a hint of suspicion. “Forgive my curiosity, but why did you come to the kitchen this late?” She held up one hand while maintaining a competent grip on the child. “And don’t tell me it’s because Stephen woke you up. I know that’s not true.”

“You’re right. Not this time,” he said. When she clucked disapprovingly under her breath, he was hard-pressed to hold back a grin. “I neglected to find supper tonight, so I thought I’d rummage around in the larder.”

She frowned. “You shouldn’t skip meals like that. It’s not good for your health.”

“I’m not exactly a feeble old man, Justine. I won’t keel over in a dead faint simply because I missed a meal.” Still, he found it rather charming that she worried about him.

She surprised him again when she rose. “Here,” she said, coming around the table. “You hold Stephen while I find you something to eat.”