‘I have no doubt that we should be invited to the houses of all but a few narrow-minded people,’ Rosalyn said. She put down her brush and moved towards him, the scent of her stirring his senses, making him aware of a sharp desire. ‘And I should not care for them—but I have never cared particularly for mixing in polite society. It was not just the comte’s attentions that made me want to leave early the other evening, Damian. To be honest with you, I was bored.’
‘As was I,’ he admitted with a wry smile. ‘I was ready to go when you first asked me, but I thought you were doing it for my sake—so I was determined we would not leave. Perverse of me, I dare say.’
‘You do not care for gambling, then?’
‘It ruined my father,’ he said, his mouth hard. ‘Playing for small sums, for amusement’s sake, is one thing—but reckless plays can be so destructive. Men who become addicted ruin themselves and their families. I worked hard for what I have, I see no point in throwing it away on the gaming tables. I can find better uses for it.’
Rosalyn stood before him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He put his hands about her hips, looking up at her.
‘Do you still need to go back to England?’ she asked. ‘Jared was very upset about it—but if you want to go…’
‘I do not need to go now that I have nothing to prove,’ he said, pulling her down so that she was across his lap and gazing into her eyes. ‘It is your choice, my love—we can go back to England or we can go to Spain as we planned…’
‘We’ll think about that tomorrow,’ she whispered, pressing her lips to his neck, her tongue nibbling at his earlobe, teasing him so that he felt desire leap inside him. ‘Does your leg hurt very much, Damian?’
He chuckled deep in his throat as he caught her meaning, then laid her back on the bed and bent over her, beginning to kiss and caress her with such tenderness that her body melted with delight.
‘Not so much that I cannot make love to my wife,’ he murmured throatily. ‘You are so lovely…all that I have ever wanted…’
Rosalyn gave herself up to his loving, which was even more tender and sweet than it had ever been. Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving with a slow rhythm which brought them both gradually to a satisfying climax.
Long afterwards, Rosalyn lay with her head against his shoulder, dreaming of the future. She was not yet sure where it would take them, but she knew it would be wonderful.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3157-3
ROSALYN AND THE SCOUNDREL
First North American Publication 2005
Copyright © 2001 by Anne Herries
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