Page 24 of How to Tempt a Duke

“Well, it’s coming across as a blend of grimace and snarl, as though you intend to tear out my throat.”

A smile did come to her lips then, natural and easy. “And what if that was my intention?”

“I prefer nibbles to bites,” he answered. “Just below my ear, if you should like to know.”

Eleanor’s tongue went thick in her mouth and stuck fast, paralyzing the prospect of saying anything witty or even vaguely intelligible. Her stare drifted to his neck, where strong muscle showed at his tanned throat. Was he serious? About nibbling his neck?

After all, how did one nibble against another’s skin? Was it in dainty pinches between the front teeth, as when she ate at the edges of a delicious marzipan flower, too pretty to eat and too delicate to keep? Or perhaps an act akin to the nip of one’s lip in a moment of consideration?

And how would it feel? To the one being nibbled and the one doing the nibbling?

Lottie reappeared suddenly with a basket carefully propped against her hip. “I believe these ought to elicit some warmth.”

She set the basket carefully on the ground. Eleanor leaned close and lifted the blanket on the top to reveal a lazy gray tabby nestled along the bottom. Half a dozen puffs of gray-and-white fur wriggled over her soft belly.

“I thought Silky had been getting fat on her complacent life here in London.” Lottie stroked the mother cat’s head, affectionately rubbing her ears. A contented purr vibrated in the air. “Turns out she was merely in a delicate way. Aren’t they terribly precious?”

She scooped up one of the furry bundles with her cupped hand and cradled it to her chest. The mother watched vigilantly as her baby was taken. A squeaking cry came from the ball of fur, repetitive and desperate.

Lottie pressed a kiss to the tiny gray head and grinned at Eleanor. “Would you like to hold one?” She cradled her hands around the small bundle and its cries fell silent as it snuggled against her.

An eager excitement dashed through Eleanor. “The mother won’t mind?”

“Silky is grateful for the reprieve, and I know you’ll be gentle.”

At Lottie’s words, the gray tabby licked her paw and scrubbed at her face, confirming her mistress’s claims. Eleanor did not wait for a second invitation. With the same care she’d seen Lottie utilize, Eleanor lifted up the wriggling warmth of a new kitten.

The pitching mewls of protest began immediately and a fat belly writhed against her palm. The kitten’s claws dug into Eleanor’s skin like miniature needles, but she was not so easily deterred. She cooed quietly to the baby and tucked it against her chest. The mewling ceased.

“Focus on how you’re feeling right now,” Lottie said in a low, soothing voice. “The kitten offers no judgment, no scrutinizing assessment. You are protection and you are comfort to her. Let yourself cast aside your fears and embrace the quiet delight of such a treasure. There is no need to ever be afraid of being who you are.”

Eleanor set her attention to Lottie’s words. The kitten’s belly rose and fell with even breaths beneath a delicate set of ribs and its blue eyes blinked slowly closed. How very precious. And how true were the words of instruction.

There was nothing to be afraid of here, in the presence of people she trusted, while cradling a small cat who had fallen asleep cupped between her palm and her chest.

“Lady Eleanor...”

Lottie’s smooth voice nudged into Eleanor’s enjoyment of a kitten lying fast asleep just above her heart.

“I’d like to introduce you to Lord Charles.”

Eleanor looked up and found Charles watching her with a smile quirking his full mouth. She beamed up at him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lord Charles.” The kitten shifted at the sound of her voice and climbed higher on her gown with its needlelike claws. Eleanor couldn’t help but giggle at its clumsy movements. “I’d curtsey, but I am otherwise detained. I do hope you’ll forgive me?”

“If you swear to look at me like that again someday, I will forgive you any transgression.”

There was a low softness to his tone and it pulled at something deep within her chest. He was watching her with a pensive expression that made the skin around his eyes tighten in a very alluring manner.

“Lady Eleanor, you are a beautiful young woman, but when you smile you are wholly and completely captivating.”

Captivating?

Her?

She’d always been prim, proper and well-behaved. Perhaps beautiful, if she were inclined to believe his prior compliments. But captivating—never.

“Thank you.” She said it in a clear voice, which was a wonder in and of itself when the rest of her had turned suddenly weak and trembling.

She turned her attention where it was the safest in application—to the slumbering ball of warmth nestled against her chest. Emotions held exceptional power. She’d spent her entire life fighting against them, squeezing, strapping and binding them into a solitary, biddable place. How could she simply let loose the stays? Would they not all explode in a riot of chaos?