by Monica Burns
“Ah, lass,” he said in a low rumble. “Please don’t cry. You’ll kill me if you cry.” When his fingers stroked along the edge of her jaw, it made her shiver.
“I’d like to kill you,” she whispered. Her throat was thick and tight. “Alec, how could you?”
His mouth pulled taut and a muscle twitched in his hard jaw, as if he were clenching his teeth. The hand at the back of her neck moved up, his fingers digging through her hair in a gentle grip. She couldn’t escape if she tried.
And when his gaze went dark and smoky, she didn’t want to.
“Because,” he rasped, “I’m a great Scottish oaf.”
And then his mouth came down on hers in a kiss that knocked her heart straight into her ribs.
§ § §
For a few horrible seconds, the most exasperating woman Alec had ever known stood as rigid as a post in his arms, her lips firmly closed against him and his clumsy attempts at apology. He was no doubt making things worse by kissing her but couldn’t seem to help himself. The pain on Edie’s sweet face and the shine of tears behind her spectacles had ripped through his heart like a mortar shell. She’d started a riot in a society ballroom and still come out strong, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’d managed to wound her. Those tears had told him just how much.
Oaf was too kind a word, for him.
He was half-expecting a knee to the bollocks when she breathed out a funny little whimper that vibrated softly against his lips. Hands that had been balled into fists and pushing against his chest suddenly relaxed. Her fingers opened, trembling as they grasped the fabric of his coat.
And, miracle of miracles, her mouth finally softened. A moment later, she was kissing him back with an eagerness that almost took him out at the knees.
He cradled her head, his fingers tunneling through her silky hair as he adjusted the fit. His other hand slid to her waist, holding her gently against him as he began to explore the lush promise of her mouth. Teasing, he slicked his tongue across her lips, tasting honey and cinnamon, an intoxicating, perfect mix. Every nerve and muscle in his body silently urged him forward, straining to further plumb her luscious depths.
When Edie hesitated for a fraction of a second, Alec’s heart stuttered with dismay. But then her hands slipped up to his shoulders and she slowly parted her lips. He surged in, taking too much too fast, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, she tangled her tongue with his, going up on her tiptoes to meet him.
He was finally getting her measure. Edie had enough charm and confidence to launch a thousand ships. But innocence lurked behind that bold façade, as did an entirely unexpected vulnerability. Her kiss was eager, open, and without artifice. It was all Edie, wild and sweet, giving as good as she got with a heady promise of more to come.
He had every intention of taking her all the way down that road.
She let out an engaging little moan and snuggled closer, brushing her full breasts against his waistcoat. Sensation bolted through him, driving what felt like every ounce of blood down to his cock. Instinctively, he slipped his hand to her delightfully round bottom—good God, the woman was a lovely handful—and nudged her into him, flush against his erection. Then he picked her up and took a step forward, trapping her between his body and the passage wall.
Edie froze in his arms. Alec went still as well, suddenly all too aware that he was preparing to make love to a virginal spinster—in a corridor, against a wall, in broad daylight.
Jesus.
Then she came to life in his arms, and not in a good way. She jerked her head away and a funny little growl issued from her lips.
“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying to struggle her way out of his embrace. “Are you deliberately trying to destroy my reputation?”
Alec mentally sighed. He almost wished someone would catch them, since it would make things a damn sight easier for both of them, although she had yet to realize it. But now that a small portion of his blood was finally heading back to his brain, he realized what an idiot he was. If he had any hope of winning Edie over, this certainly wasn’t the way to go about it.
She was worse than a nest full of French spies when it came to playing havoc with his plans. It was time to get the situation—and her—under control.
“Do I have to kick you in the shins to make you let me go?” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shot daggers at him. But her full mouth was rosy and damp from his kisses, and her breasts heaved against her trim bodice. She looked so damn tempting that it took every ounce of his discipline not to carry her off to the nearest empty bedroom and have his way with her.
That was the most enticing image to come into his brain in a very, very long time.
No, ever.
“Stop wriggling about like a worm on the end of a hook,” he growled.
“I cannot believe you just called me a worm,” she snapped, wriggling harder as she tried to escape.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her straight up off her feet. She squeaked out a startled protest, but he simply plopped her back on the padded window bench and braced himself in front of her to prevent her from bolting.
Her eyes flashed from behind her spectacles, promising all sorts of retribution, but her lenses had gone partly foggy.
“Can you even see?” he asked.
“Confound it.” She whipped off her spectacles and rubbed them on her sleeve before jamming them back on her nose.
Her gaze said quite clearly that she would like to rend him, limb from limb.
“You needn’t look at me like I’m some sort of ogre,” Alec said, “or like I’m going to ravish you right here in the hallway. I promise you, I’m not.”
She stared at him a moment longer, then looked down pointedly at the fall of his breeches. “Really? You could have fooled me,” she said.
Alec had to bite back a disbelieving laugh. Only Edie would have the nerve to comment on the state of a man’s equipment at a time like this.
“I sincerely hope you’re not in the habit of making that sort of comment to other men of your acquaintance,” he said. “It’s not exactly the most appropriate thing one could say under the circumstances.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m not! But in your case, one could hardly fail to miss it . . . that.”
Her words, coupled with her reluctantly fascinated gaze, had the predictable effect. Repressing a sigh, he turned his back to her and adjusted himself.
He heard a slight, choking sound from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he lifted an ironic eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Miss Whitney?”
Even though her cheeks were now bright red, she still managed to meet his gaze with a defiant one of her own. He had to give her credit—Edie never backed down from anything.
“Nothing at all,” she responded sarcastically. “Except for the fact that you’re the rudest man I’ve ever met.”
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§ § §
About Vanessa
Vanessa Kelly is an award-winning author who was named by Booklist as one of the “new stars of historical romance.” Her Regency-set romances have been nominated for a number of awards, and her second book, Sex and the Single Earl, won the prestigious Maggie Medallion for Best Historical Romance. Her current series, The Renegade Royals, is a national bestseller. Vanessa starts a new series in August with My Fair Princess, book one of The Improper Princesses.
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When faced with losing his father’s support, notorious rake Lord Julian Luvington sets his sights on Lady Sarah. She is as respectable as they come, just what his father ordered. But the lady shall not be easily won.
Lady Sarah Roseington is determined to marry for love or not at all, and she will do anything to obtain the freedom granted to men. A blackguard like Lord Luving
ton could destroy her hard-won reputation, but marriage to him also offers her the opportunities she cannot achieve on her own. What’s a lady to do?
When Lord Luvington refuses to abandon his pursuit, Lady Sarah proposes an arrangement. Only the price may be more than either bargained for. Lady Sarah could lose more than her social standing and Julian could lose his heart.
Scandalous Intentions
By Amanda Mariel
The First Kiss
Sarah tossed and turned the entire night as she mused over all that had happened since her introduction to Lord Luvington. She could not help but want to save him after meeting his father, but could she sacrifice her chance to be loved in order to do so?
By the time she departed the garden party, it had become clear Lord Luvington held her heart. Would her love for him be enough to carry her through the rest of her days? Perhaps she could love enough for them both.
Sarah shook the foolish thought from her muddled mind and focused her attention on the drive leading to her townhouse.
Grace would be here to fetch her any time. A light breeze brushed Sarah’s skirts around her ankles. She glanced at Mother. “The weather is lovely today. Perhaps we should go for a ride this afternoon.” Small talk, but at least it distracted her from her other line of thoughts.
“What a wonderful idea, dear. I should love to.” Mother tipped her chin. “The Duchess has arrived.”
The Duchess of Abernathy’s carriage approached. Sleek and black with her crest in gold leaf on the side. Sarah’s stomach tightened. She had no desire to spend the afternoon in the Duke of Tisdale’s company. At least she would have Mother by her side. The Duke invited Papa as well, but they were to hunt before tea. Did Papa enjoy the Duke’s hospitality, or did he itch to break away? She could not imagine how he could not.
Sarah and Mother made their way over and allowed a liveried footman to assist them into the carriage. Grace grinned as they settled in. “Lady Sarah, Lady Havenshire. You both look splendid today.”
“You make a smashing vision yourself, Your Grace.” Mother tilted her head.
Something about the pleasantries made Sarah laugh, releasing the tension that hung in the air. The other ladies soon joined in. The merriment soothed her nerves, but it would not last.
Grace knocked on the carriage roof. It jolted forward as the driver urged the horses into motion.
“I wonder how Papa is getting on with the Duke of Tisdale.”
“Marvelously, I am sure.” Mother straightened her bonnet ribbons. “Your father is an avid hunter, and I am certain the duke holds prime hunting lands.”
“Yes, but the Duke is ghastly. You did not witness the way he treated Lord Luvington yesterday.” Sarah leaned back against the plush upholstered seat. “My heart broke for him.”
Grace patted Sarah’s glove covered hand. “I fear you have an inaccurate idea of the Duke. He is really a splendid man who loves his son a great deal. He only wishes to see Lord Luvington settled. I do hope your opinion of him is changed after this afternoon’s tea.”
Sarah pulled her brows together.
“Truly, dear, you cannot judge a man until you know him well. The Duke was a perfect gentleman when your father and I were introduced to him.” Mother smiled at Grace. “It is possible you had the misfortune of meeting him at a bad time.”
Sarah opened her fan. “All the same, I do not see my opinion changing.”
“Will Lord Luvington be joining us?” Mother asked, a sparkle in her eyes.
Sarah rested her fan in her lap as a wide grin stretched her lips. Heaven help her, she could not help the joy springing forward in her. “I have it on the best of authority he will.”
“Splendid. I do enjoy his company.” Mother folded her hands on her lap.
Grace tossed her head. “Pardon me for what I am about to say.” She glanced at Sarah and smirked. “Wild horses could not keep him away from our dear Lady Sarah.”
A flutter took up residence in her heart. Sarah closed her eyes and willed her body to behave. If only Grace’s words were true, she would accept his proposal and gladly become his wife. Alas, they were not. Lord Luvington saw her as nothing more than a means to an end. It had nothing to do with love.
“He does seem to be rather fond of my darling daughter. It would be superb if they made a match.” Mother reached over and patted Sarah’s hand.
Sarah sighed. “It is a lost cause, Mother. I am not interested in Lord Luvington.”
“We shall see.” Mother smirked before looking out the window.
The carriage turned into a long drive lined with sycamore trees. Sarah gazed out the window in anticipation. A grand manor house came into view, all pillars and stone. It stood at least three stories high and sported elegant embellishments.
The carriage came to a stop in front of a sprawling stone porch with a solid carved wood door at its top. She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. They had arrived.
§ § §
Sarah sat across from Lord Luvington clutching her silver-rimmed teacup. Tension hung thick in the air around her. The Duke and Duchess of Tisdale sat at each end of a sprawling mahogany table trading furtive glances. Mother and Grace were on either side of her, and Papa sat next to Lord Luvington. The tea had just arrived, and already, she wished to escape.
“Julian must marry before month’s end. He wishes to wed Lady Sarah, and I see no reason to wait.” The Duke grinned at Sarah’s father.
Lord Luvington stood up, his chair grinding against the floor. “The lady has not accepted my suit. For heaven sakes, I have not even proposed.” His voice rumbled through the room.
Sarah jerked her gaze to him. Her cheeks warmed. How could a loving father corner his son in such a way? Twice in as many days. She looked at the Duke her heart breaking for Julian.
“There would have to be a proposal before there could be a marriage.” Papa set down his teacup and glanced at Sarah.
“Of course Sarah would be happy to entertain the offer, should it be made.” Mother tipped her chin at Sarah then beamed at the Duchess of Tisdale.
Lord Luvington cleared his throat. “Lady Sarah has made it clear she is not interested in my proposal.” He turned then strolled from the room without pause.
Sarah’s heart plummeted. She glanced at Grace, who nodded, then stood and followed Lord Luvington’s path.
“Shall we arrange the suit?” The Duke’s voice filled her head, followed by the others, though she could no longer make out what anyone said. She did not care a whit anyway.
Sarah grabbed her organdy skirts and lifted them slightly to keep from tripping as she went after Lord Luvington. She darted out of the house and ran across the lush grass toward him. Her heart hammered harder with every step.
“Lord Luvington, wait. Please wait for me.”
He continued to move into the distance.
“I have something to tell you. Please, stop.”
He froze in place, turned and stared at her with his hands on his narrow hips.
Sarah pushed herself to move faster. She needed to state her mind before she lost her nerve.
He dropped his hands to his sides and began walking toward her with purposeful strides. She wished she could make out the expression on his face.
As the gap between them closed, Sarah slowed her pace and released her skirts. He stopped mere inches from her. The warmth of his body radiated between them, sending a tingle through her. “I have changed my mind.”
“Pray tell, about what?” His gaze heated, holding hers.
“I wish to make a deal. An arrangement of sorts.” She fought the urge to glance away.
He leaned in so close his breath fanned her ear. “I do not want your pity, Lady Sarah.” Before she could reply, he turned away from her.
Sarah reached out, grabbing his shoulder. “It is not pity. Quite the opposite.” She wet her lips. “I want something from you, and you need something from me. We can help each other.”
His r
oguish smirk made her stomach flutter. “Go on, state your terms.”
“I must have freedom, the right to come and go as I please, as well as to continue my studies.”
“And if I agree to your terms, you will marry me?” His eyes held a challenge she did not understand.
“That is but part of the bargain. I wish to remain in control of my dowry as well.” She looked out at the landscaped lawn, nibbling at her bottom lip. “And I require you to give up any mistresses you may have.”
He placed one large hand on her shoulder. “I agree to your terms but have a demand of my own.”
She released her lip and met his gaze.
Again, he leaned in close. His breath caressed her earlobe and neck. “You will grace my bed every night.”
Her cheeks flamed. How she wished to be snug in his bed, wrapped in his strong arms with his lips upon hers. Would he find her to his liking? What if he did not? She swallowed and lowered her eyes.
“What if we are not compatible in such a way?”
He reached out with both hands, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close to him. His mouth came down on hers, firm and demanding.
Sarah arched against him as his heat seeped into her. Her head spun, and an ache formed in her core. When he ran his tongue across her lips, she opened for him on instinct, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
She wound her arms around his neck, twining her fingers in the hair at his nape. Her legs shook, and her heart threatened to escape her chest as it pounded against her ribs.
He pulled his lips from hers to blaze a trail across her cheek to her ear. A small moan escaped her when he drew her earlobe into his mouth. Would it always be like this?
“It seems compatibility shall not be an issue for us, my pet.” He released her and stepped away.
Legs like plum pudding, Sarah stared at him, breathless. Already, she missed the warmth and strength of his embrace. “I dare say I agree with your interpretation. Now, we have only one thing left in our way.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You must propose.”
He chuckled, his deep baritone seeping into her. “Do you desire me to do so now, or would you prefer to return to the house first?”