Some Like It Sinful by Alexandra Ivy

Author:Alexandra Ivy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2014-04-25T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Clara moved to the desk to retrieve the letter she had been studying for the past three hours. Outwardly she managed to appear her usual efficient self, while silently she recited the multiplication table, forward and then backward, in an effort to calm her rattled nerves.

Wife.

Hawksley’s wife.

Cripes. What the devil was he thinking? She had not yet accustomed herself to the earth-shattering notion that she was his mistress. And now he flummoxed her with a marriage proposal.

A warm, aching pleasure flared through her before she was sternly squashing the sensation.

No.

Hawksley was simply not thinking clearly. He saw her as a lonely spinster with no family and no one to care for her. And there was the added guilt of having taken her innocence.

It was his nature to rescue her.

She would never allow him to make such a sacrifice. Not when it would in the end make him miserable.

All too soon he would come to his senses. And then he would thank her for having refused his proposal.

In the meantime, it was vital that she hide her own foolish emotions. Emotions that she refused to contemplate. Not when they were perilously close to love.

Swallowing back the most ridiculous urge to cry, Clara firmly squared her shoulders and returned to Hawksley’s side. She was relieved to discover her hands were steady as she held up the sheets of paper.

“As you see, I have made the calculations,” she said, pointing toward the tidy line of formulas and sums.

Hawksley grimaced. “Bloody hell, it makes my brain ache to even look upon them.”

She wrinkled her nose at his obvious horror. It was a common enough reaction. There were few who shared her love for complicated equations.

“Actually they are quite simple. You see, the formula for the first is—”

“Please, I beg of you, kitten, no mathematics or calculations before breakfast. Or for that matter, before luncheon or dinner,” he pleaded.

“Very well,” she conceded with a low chuckle. Shuffling the papers, she revealed the poem she had discovered hidden within the numbers. “This is the translation:

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