Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(7)

Christopher studied her too-full, lower lip, battling the urge to claim her lips under his. “Debutantes don’t wear red.”

Her smile grew; it highlighted a faint dimple in her right cheek.

His fingers fairly itched with the urge to reach out and caress that spot.

Then her smile dipped. “You aren’t…married?”

“No.” Not yet.

She must have detected the pause in his words for she nodded slowly. “I see.”

His mouth hardened. “If my father would have his way then I’ll be wed to a…particular woman.”

From atop her mask, her brow furrowed. “Ahh. That is the way of our society, isn’t it? My brother will see me betrothed as well.”

It was irrational. It defied logic. But God how he hated the nameless bastard who would claim her. Suddenly he didn’t want the intrusion of reality to suck the enchantment from this room. Christopher was not a romantic by nature; mayhap it was the masquerade, mayhap it was the magic of their costumes…but he was lost in the moment. “I don’t think you’d care to discuss your impending betrothal any more than I do.”

“No, you’re correct on that score.” There was a trace of dryness to her words. “So then what should we talk about? The costumes of the evening?”

“Never anything that dull,” he said, with a hand to his chest.

“Perhaps the stimulating company at Lord Thomas’s masquerade?”

“Now I know you’re teasing, sweet Athena.”

She drummed the tip of her finger along her lip. “Then what do you propose, dear Odysseus?”

“Your interests. What does a woman of your great intelligence find pleasure in?”

Merriment danced in her eyes. “You do know society frowns upon intelligent woman and yet in the span of, oh a quarter of an hour, you’ve decided I’m an intelligent woman?”

“I meant no insult.”

A little snort escaped her. “It would take a good deal more than that to insult me. I rather prefer being thought of as intelligent.”

“Hence the Athena costume?”

“Hence the Athena costume,” she agreed. There was a slight pause. “And you’ll tell me of your interests?”

He raised a hand to his breast. “I would bare my soul to you this evening.”

“Then I should be sure to ask very clever questions.”

Christopher caught her hand and helped her to her feet. She swayed against him; the uncharacteristic indulgence in spirits clearly responsible and not his touch, but still, he angled her body closer to his.

Her lids fluttered a moment, as though she were as captivated as he was, as though she’d been lured by the heady threat of discovery they both risked. “Your favorite book?” she whispered.

His Athena’s words sent him crashing down on a wave of reality. Nausea flooded Christopher. Her words transported him back to the merciless teasing he’d received as a young boy.

“Odysseus?”

Christopher forced a grin. “Only if you’ll tell me first.”

Athena spun out of his arms and danced away from him, on a husky laugh. “Where is the fun in that?” She threw open her arms. “We are in a library!”

Christopher arched a brow and studied her movements. “So?”

“So?”

She tugged a book from the shelf. “I shall find my favorite book and you will do the same. Then, we’ll exchange our volumes.”

Christopher couldn’t remember when the last time he’d had such a frivolous, yet whimsical meeting. It made him forget, even if for just a moment, his loathing for every last single volume in Lord Thomas’s library. “Very well.”

Her laughter blended with his as they separated and began to scour the shelves.

“Ahh,” she said.

Christopher glanced back in time to see her pull free a book and hug it tight to her chest, which effectively concealed the title.

“Have you found yours, Odysseus?”

“Insolent thing,” he muttered and returned to his search. He walked down aisle after aisle of Lord Thomas’s floor-length shelving and, finally paused, his gaze trained so long on the books in front of him that a dull throbbing ache developed behind his eyes.

“Odysseus?”

He jerked out a green leather volume. His eyes fixed on the title, willing it into focus but the words danced before his eyes, before ultimately falling off of the cover. He wanted to hurl the bloody book across the room. “I have it.”

His Athena crossed over to him, hugging her treasure close to her chest in a way that he envied that damn book. He’d give up his right to the marquisate to be that volume.

“On the count of three, we shall trade books.”

All his age old insecurities rushed to the forefront and he nearly choked on an all too familiar panic.

“One. Two. Three.”

Christopher studied the volume she’d handed him, and looked back at her. Perhaps she saw a spark of something in his eyes for she said, “Delphine.”

“Yes. I see that,” he lied.

Athena nodded to the copy she’d handed him. “Have you read it?” She didn’t wait for his response but instead prattled on about the book. “Do you know it was written by a woman? It was so controversial,” she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “that Napoleon exiled her for her views on women’s freedom in an aristocratic society. And…”