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It didn’t.
That didn’t mean anything, truly. But Ian wanted to be thorough.
He had thought through every avenue he’d need to check today. The garden, the study, the library. He’d written down all the nooks and crannies that he’d need to look under so he wouldn’t forget. He’d refreshed his memories on all the sightings of the Shadows and what they represented.
In a word, he was prepared for his spy duty.
But only when Mrs. St. John appeared in the garden did he realize that he had completely forgotten to prepare for their assignation.
He brought a bouquet of flowers, of course. Tulips. He was a gentleman, and he wouldn’t ignore the rules of courtship, however unusual. But that wasn’t the part he was worried about.
Ian wasn’t a virgin, far from it. He wasn’t the debauched rake that the papers made him out to be after his recent folly. But he wasn’t an ignorant fool either. He knew his way around women. And since Mrs. St. John was the one who’d initiated the contact and invited him into her home, this should have been a walk in the park. A pleasurable walk in the park.
But most of his tactics involved kissing, biting, licking… His mouth watered from the simple thought.
And Mrs. St. John had clearly demanded no kisses.
He’d tried not to react to her request the moment she’d made it, and he hadn’t thought about it since then, but now, looking at her moonlit form, he wished he had given it a thought.
Not only because he’d been dreaming of kissing Mrs. St. John since the first time he’d seen her, imagining what it would be like to sip on her rosy, succulent lips.
Of course, he had. Who wouldn’t?
A few hours in Mrs. St. John’s company, and Ian couldn’t help but crave her taste. But because that request required far more creativity from Ian in bed. For a man with a reputation such as his, Mrs. St. John probably thought he’d be more innovative in his lovemaking.
Ian hated to admit even to himself that he wasn’t.
Without a word, Mrs. St. John extended her arm and once he took it, she led him to the back of the house. She opened the door and whispered, “Follow my steps exactly. Some of the steps creak, and I don’t want people to hear us.”
Ian nodded and followed her, chuckling on the inside. She would make a good spy.
They walked through the house in silence, her cold hand in his. But her pulse beat rapidly against her skin, making it clear that she was fighting her nerves, although she seemed as calm as the sea on a sunny day.
She led him inside her room, placed her bouquet into an empty vase by the bed, then stood to the side, her hands rubbing her arms as if she was cold or nervous, possibly both.
Ian looked around. The fire was blazing in the hearth, and there was a rug right before it with a few pillows thrown in. To the side stood the brass footman, but instead of wine, there was a glass pitcher with a fruity punch or shrub inside, a bowl of cherries, and a single glass. It was obvious she spent a lot of time by the fire.
The bed was tucked, and a few books lay on the bedside table next to the newly arrived tulips.
It was a simple but elegant and cozy bedchamber. It was warm and inviting. And yet the owner of the room seemed uncomfortable and out of sorts. Which led Ian to believe that his presence was what made her nervous.
He’d remembered how nervous she was when she’d asked him to be her mistress. He swallowed a chuckle.
He supposed it would be on him to make her comfortable and to lead their first encounter. “Would you like to take a seat?” He gestured toward the rug by the fire.
She let out an audible breath. “Yes, thank you.”
Ian helped her settle on the rug and then joined her. “A drink?”
“Yes.” Her smile gradually turned into a grimace. “There is only one glass. I can ask my maid to bring a second—” She faltered, apparently remembering that she didn’t want anyone to know that he was in the house.
Ian winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll share.”
He handed her a glass and her smile returned. “I’ve never… This might seem strange to you, but I have never shared a drinking vessel with another man before you.”
A gentle smile touched his lips. “I hope it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.”
“Oh, no.” Her eyes rounded. “I didn’t mean—”