The Affair (Entangled Scandalous) by Lily Maxton Page A

mentioned warm?—shape took a step back and features that had been blurred came into view: hazel eyes—a lovely meeting of green and gold—under thick eyebrows, a long, straight nose, and firm, full lips. The lips curved into a smile. “Pardon me, miss.” The voice was as deep and rich as chocolate. It reverberated around her insides like someone had just played a low note on a pipe organ.
    She didn’t bother to correct him. “No, it was my fault.” She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the amount of space he’d left between them. She took a step back. When she did, she noticed his striped waistcoat had two damp spots on it…exactly where her breasts had pushed against his chest. “Oh!”
    He followed her mortified gaze. And when he looked up, his grin took on a wickedly amused flavor.
    She knew. That look told her everything she needed to know. This man was a Rake, emphasis on the capital R. She’d been in society long enough to be acquainted with them. And long enough to know they were best avoided.
    “If you’ll excuse me.” She turned. Then stopped at the sound of his voice.
    “It’s still raining.”
    Indeed it was. She saw the torrents of it through tall sash windows, heard it pinging against the roof.
    “And you’re shivering.”
    She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could stop shaking by sheer force of will. “I’m not.”
    “Liar,” he said softly, with a strange tenderness, as though he’d just offered an endearment. “If you stay, I can have a pot of tea readied, and you can sit by the fire.”
    He was the devil, offering such temptations when chills were running up and down her spine. She should simply reach out, push open the door, and leave. And catch her death from the cold? She might be wary, but she was also practical.
    She turned back. “You work in this establishment?” She glanced past him, at bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling stacked full with volumes. The air was tinged with the earthy smells of vellum and parchment, and the shop bustled with activity. Both men and women browsed the stacks or stood by the fire or spoke to the workers at the desk.
    She’d been here before—Cameron’s Lending Library and Booksellers. In the past few years, it had become quite popular.
    “I do.”
    A fresh wave of shivers racked her. “Very well.”
    She followed him up a winding staircase with a gleaming mahogany balustrade. Without the hum of the patrons around them, the air turned still and silent. She paused. “Where are you taking me?”
    “The offices.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow. “We don’t serve tea in the main room with the books.”
    “Of course,” she said, as though she’d suspected it all along, when all she’d really been suspicious of was that he was leading her somewhere private in the hope of taking liberties.
    He opened the door to a study with a desk, a round table, and a sash window. The desk looked large in the small room. All that rested on it was a stack of blank parchment, a quill and inkwell, and a pair of round spectacles.
    Organized, for a rake.
    He pulled out a chair for her, setting it next to the fireplace. He used a poker to stir up a larger flame in the coals. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll return with the tea.”
    Elizabeth leaned as close to the fire as she could without falling in. The warm air seeped through her moist garments, causing her skin to prickle. She glanced toward the desk again. Did he actually wear those black-rimmed spectacles? She’d thought a man like him would be too vain to obscure his face.
    She stiffened when she heard heavy footfalls outside the door a few minutes later. He came in carrying a silver tea tray. He set the tray on the desk a moment, then lifted the table and lowered it next to her as though it barely weighed anything before placing the tray in the middle.
    Steam curled from the teapot. She didn’t hesitate to pour a full cup and wrap her chilled hands around