“You could,” agreed Caro. “That would be only fair.”
Leaning back on his elbows, Alec looked up and appeared to be more interested in contemplating the scudding clouds than in responding.
After a prolonged pause, she spoke again. “To be honest…”
Still no discernable reaction from him.
Caro wondered whether to go on. Peeling off a protective layer might not be a wise move. The last thing she wished was to make herself vulnerable to Alec McClellan.
A skittering of sunshine broke through the clouds, and for a moment the play of light over his profile seemed to bring out softer nuances in the chiseled planes.
Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
He turned his head slightly and, on catching her staring, raised an inquiring brow.
“To be honest, I refused your request because I feared… well, I feared you might laugh at my efforts.”
The brow remained hovering in an elegant golden arch. “But you know I never laugh.”
So why was it that the twinkle of mirth showing through his lashes caused her breath to catch in her throat?
“Th-that’s not entirely accurate,” she managed to croak. “You laughed in Scotland.” A pause. “Once, if I recall correctly.”
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“It was more of an ironic snort,” he murmured. “Your brother-in-law had just accused me of being a spy and an assassin.”
“With good reason, I might add,” pointed out Caro. “You have to admit that the circumstances looked awfully incriminating.”
She didn’t add that it was on account of her clandestine surveillance that he was exonerated. They both were aware of the fact, and while some men might have been grateful, she secretly suspected that with Alec, it wasn’t a point in her favor.
“Never mind that.” His brusque retort seemed to confirm the surmise. “We were talking about your poetry, a far more interesting subject.”
“Not really,” she replied quickly. “I meant it when I said I had only jotted down a few scribbles. They really aren’t worth sharing. Aside from the opening stanza, there are mostly just rough ideas and few descriptive words I’d like to work in.”
He held his hand out for the notebook.
“Must I?” she questioned.
His fingers waggled a come-hither command.
“Really, sir, it is like asking me to strip off my bath towel,” she protested. “I shall feel embarrassingly naked.”
Alec’s gaze sharpened and as it flicked up and then down, she suddenly had the unnerving sensation that he could see right through the layers of cotton and lace, could penetrate right through the depth of flesh and bones, could delve right down to her very essence.
Her body began to feel hot all over, as if a glowing coal had rubbed over every inch of skin.
“You are suggesting,” drawled Alec, “that if I were a gentleman, I would not demand to see the verse-in-progress?”
She nodded.
His lips curled up at the corners. “Most people would assure you that I am no gentleman.”
“Well, are you or aren’t you?”
Alec plucked the book from her skirts and started thumbing through the first few blank pages. “I leave that for you to decide.”
Drat the man. She wanted to feel annoyed with him, but the only emotion churning within her chest was a sense of nervous anticipation. She found herself watching his face very intently.