unyielding as stone.
Growing nervous under his searching stare, she licked her lips, hoping the gesture would excite him as much as when he had done it earlier. “Well?”
“Alfred, you’ve had too much to drink.”
She titled her head back. “Now, you’re being boring.”
“I don't take advantage of ladies.”
“I’m not a lady. Not right now.”
He laughed. Again. “I don’t take advantage of stable boys either.”
She should be annoyed he was so amused by her but she wasn’t. She was amazed by him, his arrogance, and his sheer sensuality. “What about curious young maids?”
He groaned. “Definitely not them.”
“But I wish you to.”
“Perhaps,” he said gently, despite a slight tension in his frame. “But it very well might simply be the wine.”
“It’s not,” she declared. Oh, how she longed to feel something. Something other than the dull plodding existence her life had been. . . Until she’d run, that is. But even then, she’d been rather lonely. “I promise it’s not.”
“Then promise me something.”
She nodded, ready to be pleasured .
“Ask me again tomorrow, when you’ve had no wine.”
“But—“
“No.” He said firmly, raising a hand to her cheek and caressing it. “No buts. I will not have you regretting anything about our endeavor. Do you understand?”
She let out a beleaguered sigh. There was something rather romantic about the way he was looking out for her. Perhaps, her rogue was a gentleman after all.
Chapter 7
A contented sigh escaped Nicholas’ lips. How could it not? He stretched and grinned, eyes closed against the bright morning light spilling in through the far window. His arms were wrapped about a soft female. Without thinking, he pulled her towards him, hooking her hips against his. He nuzzled his face into her hair.
Her extremely short hair.
What the blazes?
He froze then bit back a curse. Oh, it was a willing female in his bed, but not one he could slake his lust upon. Oh so slowly, he attempted to extract his arms from her middle without waking her. No mean feat considering her hands were resting on his forearms, as if savoring the feel of his strength about her.
She wiggled backward and a hiss escaped his lips. Damn and blast. He shouldn’t be in bed with her and he was a damned idiot for suggesting she climb upon his bed last night. Her cot had looked damned uncomfortable and, well, he’d intended to extract her family origin from her.
Despite the wine he’d plied her with, she’d proven elusive and had, instead, started an informed, if slightly endearing, debate on Napoleon and his immense desire for power. She was a woman who longed to be heard and he’d listened. It was a pity so many men so firmly refused.
His wish to make her comfortable, to draw her out, and discover something about her true identity had backfired. She’d revealed nothing then fallen asleep from good food and wine. And perhaps, since he knew her secret, she’d simply felt safe.
Safe ! With him. The idea was almost laughable. But Alfred seemed to trust him. That, of course, only made him more suspect of her capacity for good judgement.
He’d helped her open up, certainly, but not quite in the way he’d intended. He was no hypocrite. He wanted Alfred. Last night, when she’d offered herself to him, he’d wanted to strip off her breeches, linen shirt, and unwind the bindings at her breast then show her what pleasure was. Somehow he knew that she wasn’t going to be some passive miss in bed but a woman that once she felt comfortable, made demands and also took the lead from time to time.
She was going to be a tigress.
Surely, she deserved a decent love affair before she tired of her experiment, ran home, and married. Yes, she deserved to know the delights of good bed play. He loathed the idea of some bumble-headed idiot member of the aristocracy looming over her on their wedding night. The damned fellow would pull up her night rail and breed her in
Growing nervous under his searching stare, she licked her lips, hoping the gesture would excite him as much as when he had done it earlier. “Well?”
“Alfred, you’ve had too much to drink.”
She titled her head back. “Now, you’re being boring.”
“I don't take advantage of ladies.”
“I’m not a lady. Not right now.”
He laughed. Again. “I don’t take advantage of stable boys either.”
She should be annoyed he was so amused by her but she wasn’t. She was amazed by him, his arrogance, and his sheer sensuality. “What about curious young maids?”
He groaned. “Definitely not them.”
“But I wish you to.”
“Perhaps,” he said gently, despite a slight tension in his frame. “But it very well might simply be the wine.”
“It’s not,” she declared. Oh, how she longed to feel something. Something other than the dull plodding existence her life had been. . . Until she’d run, that is. But even then, she’d been rather lonely. “I promise it’s not.”
“Then promise me something.”
She nodded, ready to be pleasured .
“Ask me again tomorrow, when you’ve had no wine.”
“But—“
“No.” He said firmly, raising a hand to her cheek and caressing it. “No buts. I will not have you regretting anything about our endeavor. Do you understand?”
She let out a beleaguered sigh. There was something rather romantic about the way he was looking out for her. Perhaps, her rogue was a gentleman after all.
Chapter 7
A contented sigh escaped Nicholas’ lips. How could it not? He stretched and grinned, eyes closed against the bright morning light spilling in through the far window. His arms were wrapped about a soft female. Without thinking, he pulled her towards him, hooking her hips against his. He nuzzled his face into her hair.
Her extremely short hair.
What the blazes?
He froze then bit back a curse. Oh, it was a willing female in his bed, but not one he could slake his lust upon. Oh so slowly, he attempted to extract his arms from her middle without waking her. No mean feat considering her hands were resting on his forearms, as if savoring the feel of his strength about her.
She wiggled backward and a hiss escaped his lips. Damn and blast. He shouldn’t be in bed with her and he was a damned idiot for suggesting she climb upon his bed last night. Her cot had looked damned uncomfortable and, well, he’d intended to extract her family origin from her.
Despite the wine he’d plied her with, she’d proven elusive and had, instead, started an informed, if slightly endearing, debate on Napoleon and his immense desire for power. She was a woman who longed to be heard and he’d listened. It was a pity so many men so firmly refused.
His wish to make her comfortable, to draw her out, and discover something about her true identity had backfired. She’d revealed nothing then fallen asleep from good food and wine. And perhaps, since he knew her secret, she’d simply felt safe.
Safe ! With him. The idea was almost laughable. But Alfred seemed to trust him. That, of course, only made him more suspect of her capacity for good judgement.
He’d helped her open up, certainly, but not quite in the way he’d intended. He was no hypocrite. He wanted Alfred. Last night, when she’d offered herself to him, he’d wanted to strip off her breeches, linen shirt, and unwind the bindings at her breast then show her what pleasure was. Somehow he knew that she wasn’t going to be some passive miss in bed but a woman that once she felt comfortable, made demands and also took the lead from time to time.
She was going to be a tigress.
Surely, she deserved a decent love affair before she tired of her experiment, ran home, and married. Yes, she deserved to know the delights of good bed play. He loathed the idea of some bumble-headed idiot member of the aristocracy looming over her on their wedding night. The damned fellow would pull up her night rail and breed her in
Similar Books
