Sinful Seduction by Kate Benedict

could feel the slobbering wetness against her skin. Holding her down with one hand, he flipped up her heavy skirts and groaned as he found the gap in her pantaloons, his stubby fingers exploring the softness where her thick black stockings ended and the creamy flesh of her thighs began. He pinched her viciously and chuckled as she squealed, and it was that that saved her. Galvanised by the pain she jerked convulsively and broke his hold. Rolling away from him she fell on her knees on the other side of the bed, then leapt to her feet and scurried out the door, his jeering laughter following her.
    She was halfway down the servants’ stairs before she stopped running. Swallowing down her nausea she scrubbed her mouth, trying to remove the taste of him, then attempted to rearrange her tangled hair. When she had finally regained her breath and restored herself she continued on down, still shuddering at her narrow escape.
    â€˜You took your time,’ grumbled Mrs Hardcastle. ‘What were you doing? Admiring yourself in the mirror, no doubt.’ For a moment Maggie contemplated telling her what had really happened, then dismissed the idea. Whose word would she take? That of a common lady’s maid or that of Lord Edward Cavanagh, member of the House of Lords and pillar of society? And even if she did believe her story, what could she do? Smack his wrists and tell him not to be a naughty boy?
    â€˜Yes m’m,’ she muttered, bowing her head to hide the bitterness in her eyes. ‘Sorry m’m.’
    â€˜Well then,’ said Mrs Hardcastle, mollified. ‘Take up Master Jeremy’s tray. And be quick about it. He’s probably awake by this time.’
    He wasn’t. Putting the tray down quietly, Maggie stepped back and feasted her eyes on him, wondering how an ugly brute like Sir Edward could have fathered such a son. His blond hair was endearingly tousled against the pillow and his lips were slightly parted, making him look boyish and vulnerable, despite the rakish moustache.
    Maggie blushed as she realised he slept without a nightshirt. He had tossed off most of the bedclothes during the night, and the remaining sheet was tangled round his waist, revealing his broad tanned chest. Her fingers itched to touch the soft golden hair that made a V in the centre of it, then led tantalisingly downwards. She suppressed a gasp as she realised that the thin cotton outlined every curve of his body - and that she could see his...
    â€˜Well, do I pass inspection?’ he asked, smiling lazily at her from beneath half-closed lids. If she’d been red before, she was scarlet now! Waves of hot shame washed over her. Even the piano in the drawing room had its legs decently covered to avoid wicked thoughts - and she’d been caught staring at a man’s half-naked body like a cheap dockside whore, touting for custom.
    â€˜I... I’m sorry, sir,’ she stammered. ‘I was just about to wake you.’ She pointed to the tray. ‘I brought your breakfast.’
    â€˜Thank you, um...’
    â€˜Maggie, sir,’ she said, staring demurely at the floor.
    â€˜Thank you, Maggie,’ he said. ‘And I’m sure it’ll taste all the better for being served by such a pretty wench.’
    The blush, which had been dying away, stained her cheeks again. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she muttered, bobbing a curtsey. ‘I’ll be back to bring your hot water and fetch the tray once you’ve finished.’
    â€˜I’ll look forward to it,’ he grinned, and as he turned his attention to his breakfast she took the opportunity to leave, with as much dignity as she could muster.
    â€˜You’ve been running on thon stairs again,’ scolded Mrs McAlister. ‘Look at the colour of you. You’re as red in the face as a turkey cock. If you’re not careful you’ll give yourself a fainting fit and end up in bed beside young Emily - and then how will we