Too Tempting to Resist by Cara Elliott

Author:Cara Elliott [Elliott, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Hachette Book Group USA
Published: 2012-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Gryff hurried across the busy street, carefully following the path cleared by the sweep. He had changed his clothes and his water-stained boots on arriving back in London earlier in the day—an act accompanied by several long looks of silent reproach from his valet—but had been too on edge to tarry for more than a short stop at his townhouse.

Throughout the journey back from the country, he had reminded himself that fleeting dalliances were no longer important in his life. More serious pursuits now took precedence over frivolous pleasure. Think of your work, not a beguilingly freespirited widow.

He quickened his steps, trying to outpace the memory of a graceful ankle, a lilting laugh, a lush mouth.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “It’s time for an old dog to learn new tricks.” Paramount of which was thinking with his brain, not his pizzle.

And so, to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, he had decided to pay a visit to Watkins & Harold, rather than send a messenger to inquire whether any reply had come from the elusive Linden.

Yes or no.

It was a bit bemusing how nervous he felt. “No” was not a word that normally answered a request from the Marquess of Haddan. An august title and a glittering fortune were powerful incentives to voice an affirmative. Grease to keep the wheels of life turning with nary a squeak, he thought ruefully, dodging a lumbering dray cart.

But then, Linden was not aware that the commission was coming from a lofty peer. The artist would decide based on the merits of the essays alone.

Which was both frightening and exhilarating.

Turning down a sidestreet, Gryff drew a quick, calming breath before he entered the publisher’s modest brick building.

“Linden has said yes,” said Watkins without preamble as the door to his private office fell shut.

Gryff sat down rather heavily in the chair facing the desk. “Excellent.” He clapped his hands together, trying to look as if he hadn’t been worried sick. “Excellent.”

“That it is. However, we’ve a tight schedule to stick with,” pointed out the publisher. “As I’ve told you, I’d like to have the volume printed in time for the botanical symposium that is to take place next spring in Oxford.”

Gryff swallowed hard. The project was suddenly more than just an idea floating around in his head, more than just scribbles on a scrap of paper. It was taking shape as something real. Ink and paper, bound in calfskin with a gold-stamped title and the author’s name.

A new step. A new dream. Was he truly ready to turn over a new leaf?

“Deadlines, milord—we will have deadlines,” continued Watkins. “I know this is all new to you, but I do run a business.”

“And you are asking whether I can be professional?” said Gryff.

Watkins looked a little uncomfortable but nodded. “In a nutshell, yes.”

“You may count on it,” he replied. “And what of Linden?”

“Having worked with the artist before, I am confident that we will have no reason to rue our choice.”

“Well then, the work should go smoothly as silk.

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