Seducing the Viscount by Alexandra Ivy

it that you desire?”
    His breath hissed between his teeth as he made a determined path toward the door.
    â€œYou are not that naïve,” he muttered.
    â€œAre you leaving?”
    â€œI am wise enough not to tempt fate, or my less-than-dependable sense of fair play.” He wrenched open the door and paused without turning. One glance at that sweet, vulnerable face and he would be on her like a . . . he groaned in genuine agony. “Good night, sweet Mercy.”
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    The night had been a restless one for Ian. Not an unusual event. Lately most of his nights had been plagued by nightmares.
    Of course, until he had arrived at Rosehill his nightmares had not included elusive wood sprites who enticed him with their magical beauty and then danced out of reach when he attempted to grasp them.
    It did not improve matters to awaken so hard and aching he was forced to relieve the pressure once again.
    The sun had barely crested the horizon when he was out of bed and allowing one of the numerous male servants to assist him with his bath and shave. He expected his own valet to arrive later in the day, thank God. Reaver was accustomed to dashing about London and the surrounding countryside in a perpetual effort to keep pace with his restless employer.
    Once attired in his black jacket and silver-striped waistcoat, Ian made his way through the hushed grandeur of the house to the back breakfast room.
    As expected he discovered his aunt seated at a small table partaking of her morning meal. In some ways Ella was as predictable as her brother.
    â€œGood morning, Aunt Ella.”
    â€œIan?” The older woman regarded his entrance with genuine shock. “My gracious, either the accommodations at Rosehill have become shabby beyond repair or the earth is coming to an end. You never rise before noon.”
    Crossing the black-and-white tiled floor, Ian grasped his aunt’s plump fingers and raised them to his lips.
    â€œOnly the pleasure of your companionship could possibly have lured me from the comforts of my bed at such an ungodly hour.”
    Ella clicked her tongue, but there was no mistaking the blush of pleasure that bloomed on her cheeks.
    â€œVery pretty, but I am not quite so gullible as to believe such nonsense.”
    Straightening, Ian pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me, my dearest.”
    â€œRapscallion.” Ella smiled fondly. “Will you join me?”
    â€œBut of course.” Politely, Ian turned to the sideboard and studied the generous array of eggs, toast, kidneys, bacon, and his aunt’s favorite scones. A smile touched his lips as he recalled the lean years he could barely afford a bowl of porridge while his father wasted enough to feed an entire village. It was a thought he was swift to banish. Nothing could be served by wounding his aunt’s feelings. “Ah, nothing less than a feast,” he murmured.
    â€œIf you do not recognize any of the dishes, please feel free to inquire,” Ella teased.
    Ian filled a plate and returned to take his place at the table. “It has not been that long since I enjoyed breakfast.”
    The older woman snorted. “I will eat my favorite bonnet if you have seen the sunrise in the past decade.”
    â€œVery well, your bonnet is no doubt saved from horrid mastication,” he conceded with a grin.
    There was silence as they both enjoyed the expertly prepared food, Ian draining two cups of coffee in the hopes it would rid him of the clinging lethargy.
    At last Ella patted her lips with a linen napkin and regarded Ian with a curious gaze.
    â€œWhy are you here, Ian?”
    Ian did not miss a beat as he carefully returned his cup to the Wedgwood saucer. “Have you not always insisted that this is my home?”
    â€œIt is, but you have determinedly refused to see it as such.” Her head tilted. “Indeed, you have gone to great efforts to avoid Surrey. So you cannot blame me for being curious