The Lady's Wicked Proposition (Wicked Liaisons series) by Vivienne Westlake Page B

her words as a direct invitation to bed and obliged without a second thought.
    She was pleasing to look at, with large, crystal blue eyes, fair skin, and the tiniest hint of freckles under her eyes. He could easily envision pulling her brown hair as she knelt before him, tempting him with a luscious round arse that was made to be kissed and spanked in equal measure.
    But Edwina Merriweather was an innocent. Well, as innocent as a woman of three-and-twenty might be, and she had no brother to warn her against soliciting a rake when she should be looking for a husband—with the title to match her fifteen thousand a year.
    “Champagne has muddled your wits. You are in danger, yet you fail to realize it. Like the cat that baited the wolf.”
    “I am certainly drunk,” she agreed. “But ask me tomorrow, and I shall tell you the same. I know what I want. While I am certain I could find a number of willing Lotharios to oblige me, you intrigue me more than any other man I’ve met this season.”
    “How many men have you approached?” He might need to make some calls tomorrow to save the lady from her own loose tongue.
    “Only you.”
    He let out a long breath. Why was he so relieved? He barely knew the woman and should not feel the need to protect her from her own stupidity. Yet the thought of her being ill-used by a man who might spread gossip about her—or worse, discard her the moment he’d spent himself inside her—made Francis ill.
    “At least you were smart enough to come to me first.”
    Dina leaned forward, giving him a nice view of what might be his, if he agreed. Her petite, slender figure seemed lithe and graceful, rather than awkward and undeveloped, and her bosom was sufficient enough for him to fantasize about what hid beneath the pale blue muslin.
    “Does that mean that you will volunteer to assist me?”
    He wanted to rub his cheek along her body from chest to ankle, longed to skim his fingers along her thighs and work his way into her cleft, but he would not ravage an innocent maid. She has not expressly said that she is untouched , he reminded himself.
    Leaning closer, he whispered even lower. “Do you have any experience? Or are you still pure?” He tried to put it delicately.
    A red flush spread cross her skin, from her cheeks down to her chest. “I am untutored in the ways of love. This is exactly why I seek someone of your savior-faire .”
    He sat silently for a moment. If he turned her away, she might find another man to service her. The consequences could be disastrous, depending on the man she chose. If Francis accepted her request, he would ruin her. She’d be ostracized and never find a husband—though an unscrupulous man might forgive her indiscretion for the promise of a fortune.
    With a quick glance around the room, he checked for onlookers. The three ladies who’d watched him earlier were gone, and everyone else was either engrossed in their game or too drunk to notice the conversation.
    “Miss Merriweather, you are inebriated. You’ve gone through at least one bottle of champagne—“
    “Two,” she corrected.
    “Two bottles.” He raised his eyebrows. “As much as your suggestion flatters me, I cannot take it seriously. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up mortified and regret your offer. What shall I do then?” He smiled and took her hand. “Your retraction would break my heart.”
    “I am perfectly serious,” she countered. When he looked into her glassy eyes, he knew he’d made the right decision. She’d forget about the whole thing tomorrow, when the sober light of morning touched her beautiful face.
    “Let us resume the game.”
    Picking up the cards, he knew he needed a hit. Unfortunately, the next card took him from sixteen to two-and-twenty. Miss Merriweather could have five and she’d win the game. He handed back her marker from the last hand and picked up her cards to shuffle the pack again. Curious, he stole a peek at her hand. Twenty-one .
    Miss Merriweather had