Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(88)

He stopped only inches away. Justine had to repress the impulse to step back—not because he frightened her, but because her awareness of him thrummed inside her body, silently urging her into his orbit.

Griffin’s mouth curved in a dangerously seductive smile as he gazed down at her. “I might have known you’d be a little bluestocking. Tell me more.”

His gaze, so full of secrets, sucked her in, tempting her with forbidden thoughts. Almost unconsciously, she raised her hand to the neckline of her robe, pulling it tighter.

“Why do you even care?” she whispered.

His eyes half closed and he leaned toward her, as if trying to capture some elusive scent. “For some reason I’m unable to fathom, I want to know everything about you. I want to know what your favorite toy was when you were a child, what was your most treasured possession. Who comforted you when you cried, or if you ever climbed a tree. I want to know what you like to eat and what makes you curl up your sweet little nose. I want to know when you first wished to kiss a boy. I especially want to know about that,” he finished with a wicked purr.

She stared into the dark well of his eyes, transfixed. His voice lulled her into a dangerous submission and she swayed, ever so slightly, leaning toward him. His gaze flared hot in response.

But when he reached for her, the moment shattered. Justine let out a self-conscious gasp and jerked away, rushing to her dressing table to straighten up her things with shaking hands.

Griffin muttered something under his breath—something unflattering, she suspected.

“There’s no need to be frightened, Justine,” he said in a dry-as-dust voice. “I’m not an ogre.”

“I’m not the least bit frightened. I just don’t want to talk about silly things like my childhood, that’s all.” She straightened her new brushes and mirror into a careful line.

Griffin leaned against the post at the foot of her bed, as if he intended to spend the rest of the night right there. The heat had faded from his eyes, replaced by a sardonic amusement that made her inwardly wince. “Don’t you think a husband and wife should know something about each other, Justine? How else are they to get along?”

“Well, you seem to know quite a bit about me, but I know very little about you,” she retorted, feeling unaccountably defensive. It was as if he’d exposed something inside of her, something she’d rather not know about. “I hardly think that’s fair.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Are you still planning on leaving England?” The question had popped from her mouth before she’d even thought of it.

He dipped his head once. “Of course.”

She waited, but no other information seemed to be forthcoming. “That’s all you have to say about it?” she asked incredulously.

He simply shrugged.

That made her temper flicker to life. How could he be so casual about something that had the potential to affect her so greatly? She barely knew how to respond to him anymore, how to think about their future together. The day had been so tumultuous, so replete with upsets.

She stiffened, suddenly remembering what she’d learned about him this morning from Patience and Rose. Justine couldn’t believe she’d managed to forget something so important. Right now, the very idea that he’d withheld such vital information seemed almost dishonest.

“My love, are you going to stand there in a brown study all night, or is there something else you’d like to ask me?” Griffin prompted with a grin.

“Quite a number of things, when I think about it,” she said. “For instance, I had no idea who your father was until Rose and Patience told me this morning. That was a revelation, believe me. And I don’t think it right that you withheld that information from me before our marriage.”