A Perfect Scandal by Tina Gabrielle

drum, and her breathing became ragged. Or was that his breathing? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that her trembling limbs clung to him.
    She had kissed other men. But never had those rushed interludes felt like this. Those kisses had been wet and sloppy—the partners rushed and overeager as if the kissing was just an inconvenience to do what they really sought to do—grope her thigh, her buttocks, or her breast.
    Here was a man who enjoyed kissing, took his time and thoroughly enjoyed holding her, exploring her lips, her mouth, her…
    His lips moved to her ear, then the curve of her neck. She gasped again—the sensations overwhelming.
    “Oh, my,” she whispered. “I hadn’t expected it to be quite so…enjoyable.”
    He raised his head, and then dropped his arms from around her. “Neither did I,” he said, his voice harsh.
    She was confused by his sudden withdrawal, the tensing of his body. Perhaps he wasn’t as affected by their shared embrace as she? She knew there had been lovers in his roguish days.
    What could a mere kiss mean to a former rake?
    Then she met his gaze and changed her opinion. There was a wild look in his dark eyes, a smoldering promise of more to come. The tensing of his powerful body was not from cold disinterest, but from measured restraint.
    “I used to dream about you when I was a girl,” she blurted out, then was immediately embarrassed by the admission.
    “I know.”
    She frowned. “A little humility would suit you.”
    “Perhaps. But if we are to act the loving couple, then we must be completely honest with each other. Do you agree?”
    “Of course. Then if I may ask, why did you kiss me?”
    “Because I wanted to. Because I’ve thought of little else since you propositioned me in Lord Westley’s erotic gallery.”
    Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears at his words. “I see,” she said, raising a forefinger to her swollen bottom lip.
    Footsteps echoed down the hall, and the library door swung open. Edward Cameron stood in the doorway.
    “Well, Mr. Hawksley? Is everything settled between the two of you then?”
    Marcus nodded. “We are in agreement, Lord Malvern.”
    “Good. We shall announce the engagement immediately to stem the tide of forthcoming gossip. The sooner the marriage takes place, the better. I’ll attempt to acquire a Special License, but if my connections are unsuccessful, then we shall have to arrange for the reading of the banns. Shall I contact Lord Ardmore, or will you?”
    Marcus straightened. “There’s no need. I’ll speak with my father and older brother.”
    Isabel recalled Charlotte’s bit of gossip at Lady Holloway’s ball. Marcus Hawksley had become estranged from his family after entering trade as a stockbroker. It had seemed like such a harsh course of action by the Earl of Ardmore. Had the old man no feelings for his younger son? And what of Marcus’s brother, the heir to the earldom? How could he fault his younger sibling for seeking to earn a living rather than begging for every shilling from his father as all younger sons had to do?
    It made no sense. She wondered what else was behind the rift. Glancing at Marcus’s strong profile, she decided then and there that she would find out not just the truth about his family, but about who was trying to frame him for thievery.
     

    “You did what?”
    Isabel poured Charlotte a cup of tea and took a seat across from her friend. They were in the parlor of Isabel’s home, where Isabel had invited Charlotte for afternoon tea to update her on yesterday’s shocking course of events.
    “I don’t know what to think myself,” Isabel said. “I was trying to get out of one engagement only to find myself forced into another.”
    Charlotte sat still, her color alarmingly pale. Isabelle reached across an end table, past the sterling silver tray, to touch her friend’s hand. “Charlotte?”
    Charlotte blinked, her eyes focusing on Isabel’s face. “Engaged to Marcus Hawksley? You lucky