Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Mercy,” Zoe murmurs next to me. “I think my sole just left my body.”
His shirt is white, the sleeves folded to reveal a little tan forearm porn. The jodhpurs are fawn and indecently fitted, and his narrow waist is denoted by a chestnut-colored belt. His boots are tall, brown and well-worn now, which says this get-up isn’t a prop designed to turn me on. Because I am.
Looking at him does make me wonder why Mr Darcy (the Colin Firth version) even bothered getting his shirt wet when he could’ve been wearing pants like that. Maybe Colin’s thighs aren’t as thick. Or maybe he has a pancake bum. As for the rear version of Luke, I know I’m in for a treat.
He greats his children, keeping his gaze from mine, as he should. Not that I don’t find it a tiny bit maddening.
“Good morning, Zoe,” he says, a tiny smile threatening. “Primrose.”
Look at that, I even get second billing.
“Bonjour, Monsieur du Beaumont,” Zoe trills.
Cup in hand, I glance up from under my lashes. I’m not even laying it on thick. Just trying not to give away our plans by my expression. One look my way and Zoe will guess that the man has had his hands in my pants. “Good morning. Sir.”
One of his eyebrows quirks. I turn back to the coffee machine as I swallow a giggle. What was I doing again? Ah. Coffee. Milk? My latte.
“Papa, we’re going to be late,” Sylvie complains.
“One minute, ma puce.” He crosses to the coffee machine, but I don’t look. I absolutely won’t look. “Is that for me?” His voice is low, his tone sort of husky.
I hold the cup out to him without speaking. As his fingers brush mine, a frisson of delight runs through me. I find myself closing my eyes to fully appreciate the effect.
“Primrose has a question,” Zoe pipes up from behind me.
His reaction seems delayed, though his eyes lift to meet hers over my head. “A question?” He takes the cup from me as he adjusts his line of sight once more, those blue eyes back to undressing me.
“It’s nothing.” Move over Elizabeth Bennett. One glance and a brush of fingers and I already feel like I might swoon.
“A group of us are going to the port tonight,” Zoe says, taking it upon herself to sort out my life. “I thought I might show Primrose around. She hasn’t been into the town yet and—”
“No,” he says, cutting her off.
I feel the sting in his tone, and it’s kind of delicious. No is a full sentence, of course. Even if I can’t seem to practice that myself. Luc, meanwhile—M. LDH—he gets it. No explanation needed and no consideration for anyone else but himself. Just a single, crisp syllable delivered with the high-handed certainty of a man who is accustomed to the world bending to his will.
Except when it comes to me.
“But it’s—”
“It’s fine,” I say, glancing away before my clothes disintegrate. I’m a modern woman—a doctor. I’ve spent years getting to the point where people literally trust me with their lives. I make my own decisions, pay my own bills, and I possess opinions on everything from the state of the Amazon Rainforest to the benefits of green tea. It should feel wrong that his arrogance stirs this deeply unevolved part of me. Instead, it makes me want to purr.
Maybe because the way he’s looking at me says, Mine.
For a limited time.
“I just thought…”
The quelling look he sends Zoe seems to dissolve whatever else she was about to say.
“I have plans for Primrose.”
Exsqueeze me? He did not just say that—and not in that tone. I might be prone to fantasies of being exposed but that doesn’t mean I really want to be!
“Plans?” I don’t sound too happy about it, even though thrill races up my spine. “With the children?” I add, hoping to steer Zoe away.
“Felix, could you please help your sister to put on her boots?”
“Ouais.”
Sylvie is similarly attired to her dad, but Felix has on jeans. Maybe because he’s reached that stage of development where his legs are as thin as string beans. But the pair trot off as Luc drains his cup.
“Perhaps another time, Zoe. I have a surprise tonight for the children, and I require Primrose’s help.”
“Oh, sure.” She nods because no one wants to bite the hand that writes your paycheck. And because I don’t want to upset her, I slide her a disappointed look.
“Six o’clock” He turns to me, her words almost a warning. “Please have the children ready for then.”
My pulse gives a traitorous little kick as he turns to leave. “Yes, of course. Absolutely.” Anything else I can do for you? Anything?
“Have a good day, Zoe,” he murmurs as he turns. “Until later, Primevère.”
My entire body intuits his promise as he strides from the room taking my eyes with him. Glued to his bum. I was correct; those riding duds are no less problematic from behind.