her—so magical and life-changing that it had frightened her. Somewhere deep inside, Linnet had known it would come to that, which was why she’d always avoided Sir Anthony. She wanted him so fiercely she was ready to sweep aside all her other responsibilities and devote herself to him.
She pressed her hands over her eyes as she relived that humiliating moment when she’d lost all control and sucked his tongue into her mouth. Sir Anthony had been as shocked as she, although he’d recovered with enthusiasm. But for her, the spell had been broken. Linnet had been kissed before but had never lost her self-control. In Sir Anthony’s compelling embrace, she’d thrown discretion to the four winds, acting in a disgracefully wanton manner.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one’s point of view—he hadn’t seemed all that eager to take what she wanted to give, at least once she’d broken free of his arms. His dismissive referral to their wild embrace as “just a kiss” had stabbed her with surprising force. And unlike her, he hadn’t seemed one bit unsettled. Frustrated, perhaps, and definitely annoyed. But unsettled, gripped by passion?
Hardly.
Certainly, his kiss had been masterful, but she assumed that sort of thing came easily to a man. Still, Sir Anthony was not someone to trifle with a woman’s virtue. When it came right down to it, Linnet hadn’t a clue what he was about. All she knew was that the incident had been one of the most confusing, distressing, and wonderful experiences of her life.
Sternly, Linnet ordered herself to stop thinking about him, at least for tonight. What she needed was something to read—something boring. The only book she had in her room was Tristram Shandy , which she always enjoyed so much that she knew she’d be up the rest of the night reading it. No, something else would have to do. Something weightier, like a history or a philosophical tome. Perhaps even a book of sermons.
Not that it was quite the thing to be creeping about the house at this hour, especially in her nightclothes. Still, it was very late, and even the servants had gone to bed quite some time ago. Linnet hadn’t heard a sound out in the hallway for at least an hour.
She mulled it over for a minute, then pulled on her light wrapper. Glancing at her slippers, she decided to ignore them since the floorboards were deliciously cool under her feet.
Taking up her candle, she eased open her door and slipped into the hall. She stood quietly for a full minute. When she heard not a sound, she made her way down the hall and descended the staircase. The stone floor of the entrance hall sent a pleasant shiver up through the soles of her feet. It was cooler on the main floor, significantly more comfortable than her stifling bedroom. Rather than returning upstairs, perhaps she’d curl up with a book in one of the big armchairs in the study until she grew sleepy.
Carefully shading her candle, she hurried across the hall. So intent on shielding the small flame and making as little noise as possible, she only noticed the lamp glowing in the far corner of the study after she was inside with the door shut behind her.
And by then it was too late.
Horror-struck, she froze against the door, her shoulder blades pressing into the oak panels. She gazed at the outline of the broad-shouldered man at the desk, his dark head bent as he worked. In the dim light, she could make out the hard slash of his jaw and the line of his firm, sensual mouth. That mouth curved up in a smile before he even lifted his head, as if he already knew she was there.
When his head did come up, Linnet almost fainted on the spot as Sir Anthony’s eyes gleamed at her in the soft glow from the lamp. Without a word, he let his gaze travel over her. It halted at her feet, and the smile transformed into a grin.
Glancing down, Linnet barely managed to repress a groan. She’d forgotten for the moment that her feet were bare. Again.
She reached behind
She pressed her hands over her eyes as she relived that humiliating moment when she’d lost all control and sucked his tongue into her mouth. Sir Anthony had been as shocked as she, although he’d recovered with enthusiasm. But for her, the spell had been broken. Linnet had been kissed before but had never lost her self-control. In Sir Anthony’s compelling embrace, she’d thrown discretion to the four winds, acting in a disgracefully wanton manner.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one’s point of view—he hadn’t seemed all that eager to take what she wanted to give, at least once she’d broken free of his arms. His dismissive referral to their wild embrace as “just a kiss” had stabbed her with surprising force. And unlike her, he hadn’t seemed one bit unsettled. Frustrated, perhaps, and definitely annoyed. But unsettled, gripped by passion?
Hardly.
Certainly, his kiss had been masterful, but she assumed that sort of thing came easily to a man. Still, Sir Anthony was not someone to trifle with a woman’s virtue. When it came right down to it, Linnet hadn’t a clue what he was about. All she knew was that the incident had been one of the most confusing, distressing, and wonderful experiences of her life.
Sternly, Linnet ordered herself to stop thinking about him, at least for tonight. What she needed was something to read—something boring. The only book she had in her room was Tristram Shandy , which she always enjoyed so much that she knew she’d be up the rest of the night reading it. No, something else would have to do. Something weightier, like a history or a philosophical tome. Perhaps even a book of sermons.
Not that it was quite the thing to be creeping about the house at this hour, especially in her nightclothes. Still, it was very late, and even the servants had gone to bed quite some time ago. Linnet hadn’t heard a sound out in the hallway for at least an hour.
She mulled it over for a minute, then pulled on her light wrapper. Glancing at her slippers, she decided to ignore them since the floorboards were deliciously cool under her feet.
Taking up her candle, she eased open her door and slipped into the hall. She stood quietly for a full minute. When she heard not a sound, she made her way down the hall and descended the staircase. The stone floor of the entrance hall sent a pleasant shiver up through the soles of her feet. It was cooler on the main floor, significantly more comfortable than her stifling bedroom. Rather than returning upstairs, perhaps she’d curl up with a book in one of the big armchairs in the study until she grew sleepy.
Carefully shading her candle, she hurried across the hall. So intent on shielding the small flame and making as little noise as possible, she only noticed the lamp glowing in the far corner of the study after she was inside with the door shut behind her.
And by then it was too late.
Horror-struck, she froze against the door, her shoulder blades pressing into the oak panels. She gazed at the outline of the broad-shouldered man at the desk, his dark head bent as he worked. In the dim light, she could make out the hard slash of his jaw and the line of his firm, sensual mouth. That mouth curved up in a smile before he even lifted his head, as if he already knew she was there.
When his head did come up, Linnet almost fainted on the spot as Sir Anthony’s eyes gleamed at her in the soft glow from the lamp. Without a word, he let his gaze travel over her. It halted at her feet, and the smile transformed into a grin.
Glancing down, Linnet barely managed to repress a groan. She’d forgotten for the moment that her feet were bare. Again.
She reached behind
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