The Defiant Lady Pencavel by Diane Scott Lewis

would get her anywhere, least of all out of England to exotic lands.
    A hand touched her shoulder and she spun around. “Back so soon, Mr....?” She gasped, staring up into the ebony pools of Lord Lambrick’s eyes. She shuddered with excitement.
    “Disappointed, my little scamp?” He smiled slowly. “Were you planning to seduce that chucklehead who was with you a moment ago?”
    A spark tingled low in her stomach. “Do you stalk me everywhere, sir? There should be a law against it.” She swallowed hard as he leaned over her. “I’m calling a Bow Street Runner to haul you off to the Newgate gaol.”
    “If you wish to seduce someone, make your first time—if it is indeed your first time—with a man who knows what he’s doing.” He gripped her shoulders.
    “You’re a dissolute churl, and I should slap your face.” She raised her hand, really anxious to stroke his manly jaw. His warm hands sent delightful quivers through her.
    “Slap away, my dear, I might enjoy it. And I intend to partake of you.” He jerked her against him; she felt his heart hammering into her breasts. He actually did desire her. Her knees grew weak, until she regained her senses.
    “I’ll go to my death a virgin. Unless I find an intriguing Egyptian, a long-dead pharaoh come back to life, or a swarthy camel guide, anyone but you , sir.” She heaved against him, her breath sharp. He smelled heavenly, like the wind and earth. That first kiss in the garden had been delicious, but she’d never admit it.
    She waited, and waited. Finally, he dipped his head and kissed her so passionately, she thought she’d melt. Instead of resisting, she relished in his soft yet demanding lips against hers, the taste of his breath. Her body quaked, filled with the rushing of blood through her veins.
    “Uh, here is your l-lemonade, my lady,” a tentative voice uttered.
    They kissed a few seconds more, then broke apart, gasping for air.
    Melwyn practically collapsed against the balustrade. Her body felt thoroughly plundered, or at least her mouth did. “Oh, good evening, Mr. Show...reynolds, was it? Let me introduce you to my...a family friend.” She refused to give Lambrick the respect of calling him her betrothed.
    “You have a-a very close family, I must say,” the young man sputtered. The glass of yellow liquid in his hand shook.
    Lambrick plucked the glass from him. “If I ever catch you anywhere near Lady Pencavel again, I’ll thrash you beyond recognition. Is that understood?”
    “Most certainly, sir. Yet I-I’m thoroughly insulted by both of you. I give you good eve.” He whipped about and scrambled through the doors.
    “I suppose you will follow me about and threaten to thrash every man who pays me the least attention?” She snatched the glass and drank the cool drink, tart and refreshing on her parched throat. She needed to drench the taste of him from her mouth. 
    “As arresting as that sounds, I won’t have time for such endeavors. I must return to Cornwall.” His eyes glinted in the moonlight, his flushed face even more handsome. He gave her a smug smile. “I have a better proposition. Will you spend the night with me, tonight?”   
    “You are a rascal of the worst sort, and a terrible listener. I told you not five minutes ago that I’d never give you the benefit of my maidenly parts.” Inside, she wished he’d pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and carry her off through the garden to force himself on her in a shadowy alley. Then it would be his fault she was disgraced. Of course, then he’d have to offer to marry her, and they’d be right back to the original conundrum.
    “What is going on out here?” came the imperious voice of Aunt Hedra. “Have you found a young man to your liking? Even so, you should not loiter out here too long, people will talk. Some are gossiping already.” She raised her quizzing glass. “Oh, it’s you Lord Lambrick. Why are you here bothering my niece?”
    “I don’t think she