gesture.
“You are invitingly delectable,” he whispered in her ear, his breath smelling strongly of whiskey.
He began to gently nibble on her earlobe, lowering his head, placing a series of small kisses along the column of her exposed neck. He murmured between kisses, “Delicious, soft and warm . . . absolutely enticing.”
She whispered back, “Thank-you,” briefly remembering the first time he’d placed his hands around her, how her body had quickened at the feel of his body brushing up against hers when she helped him out of the bog.
Gathering her hair, he gently moved it to one side as he continued his exploration along the nape of her neck. When he reached her shoulders, he gently tugged down the muslin covering, causing her to shiver at his touch. He bent his head and began kissing her again . . .
She delighted at the feel of his lips against her skin, each kiss causing her pulse to quicken and her heart to pound in anticipation. Finally, wanting his lips on her own, she took his head into her hands and forced his bleary eyes to look into her own.
She commanded him, “Kiss me.”
Obediently, he complied, his mouth descending on hers, his tongue gently coaxing open her mouth. He tasted of a mixture of tobacco and whiskey. His mouth savored her lower and upper lips as he sucked on them, awakening long forgotten feelings she’d tried to forget when she vowed to become an independent spinster.
She felt his hand reach inside her bodice and fondle her breast. In a gentle circular motion, the soft pad of his thumb applied pressure, rubbing her nipple. Involuntarily, she let out a soft moan of pleasure.
The sound of the outer chamber door clicking open, however, pushed away all thoughts of any further kisses or heated embraces. Startled, she backed out of his arms.
Not bothering to knock, Wise Sarah strolled in dressed in her best Sunday frock, a blue homespun gown lined with fine Irish lace. She wore a winsome smile and turned to speak to her patient, but the words she’d prepared died on her lips.
Head sunk to one side, the Earl of Drennan lay openmouthed like a dead fish in deep slumber. A drunken snore buzzed the air about him.
“Oh!” she muttered, surprised, spun on her heels, and walked out, slamming the door shut behind.
And that was a grand shame. If she’d but lingered a moment longer, she’d have seen a sight worthy of remembrance. Her friend, the renowned Spinster of Brightwood Manor, that waspish maid of virtue, slid off the bed and onto the floor in a breathless heap.
Eyes closed, the lady of the house sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. “Praise be the good Lord above for small favors,” she whispered leaning her head weakly against the wall for support. “He fell asleep.”
So once again she’d miraculously managed to slip through the manacles of holy wedded bliss. For if she had been found lying in the handsome earl’s bed kissing him, letting him fondle her body, she surely would have been trapped in a marvelous scandal.
Aye, even the becoming witch would have reported her to her father. For such scandalous behavior as being found in a bachelor’s bed was not tolerated by the upright religious folk of Urlingford. But as the earl had fallen fast asleep when the witch entered the chamber, there was no reason to question her slightly ruffled state or the flaming color in her cheeks. She nodded in sober solemnity. A blessed angel from above was watching out for her this day.
And with a triumphant smile, she reminded herself that not only had she not been found in the earl’s arms by the witch, she had skillfully rid herself of that blasted coin.
“Aye, and I wish him good fortune with it,” she murmured, and left the room with nary another thought about what she had just said and done.
Chapter 4
It was not, however, the noise of his own snoring that awoke Captain James Dermott Huntington, the new Earl of Drennan. Much like the princess who could not lie asleep on a pea, he
“You are invitingly delectable,” he whispered in her ear, his breath smelling strongly of whiskey.
He began to gently nibble on her earlobe, lowering his head, placing a series of small kisses along the column of her exposed neck. He murmured between kisses, “Delicious, soft and warm . . . absolutely enticing.”
She whispered back, “Thank-you,” briefly remembering the first time he’d placed his hands around her, how her body had quickened at the feel of his body brushing up against hers when she helped him out of the bog.
Gathering her hair, he gently moved it to one side as he continued his exploration along the nape of her neck. When he reached her shoulders, he gently tugged down the muslin covering, causing her to shiver at his touch. He bent his head and began kissing her again . . .
She delighted at the feel of his lips against her skin, each kiss causing her pulse to quicken and her heart to pound in anticipation. Finally, wanting his lips on her own, she took his head into her hands and forced his bleary eyes to look into her own.
She commanded him, “Kiss me.”
Obediently, he complied, his mouth descending on hers, his tongue gently coaxing open her mouth. He tasted of a mixture of tobacco and whiskey. His mouth savored her lower and upper lips as he sucked on them, awakening long forgotten feelings she’d tried to forget when she vowed to become an independent spinster.
She felt his hand reach inside her bodice and fondle her breast. In a gentle circular motion, the soft pad of his thumb applied pressure, rubbing her nipple. Involuntarily, she let out a soft moan of pleasure.
The sound of the outer chamber door clicking open, however, pushed away all thoughts of any further kisses or heated embraces. Startled, she backed out of his arms.
Not bothering to knock, Wise Sarah strolled in dressed in her best Sunday frock, a blue homespun gown lined with fine Irish lace. She wore a winsome smile and turned to speak to her patient, but the words she’d prepared died on her lips.
Head sunk to one side, the Earl of Drennan lay openmouthed like a dead fish in deep slumber. A drunken snore buzzed the air about him.
“Oh!” she muttered, surprised, spun on her heels, and walked out, slamming the door shut behind.
And that was a grand shame. If she’d but lingered a moment longer, she’d have seen a sight worthy of remembrance. Her friend, the renowned Spinster of Brightwood Manor, that waspish maid of virtue, slid off the bed and onto the floor in a breathless heap.
Eyes closed, the lady of the house sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. “Praise be the good Lord above for small favors,” she whispered leaning her head weakly against the wall for support. “He fell asleep.”
So once again she’d miraculously managed to slip through the manacles of holy wedded bliss. For if she had been found lying in the handsome earl’s bed kissing him, letting him fondle her body, she surely would have been trapped in a marvelous scandal.
Aye, even the becoming witch would have reported her to her father. For such scandalous behavior as being found in a bachelor’s bed was not tolerated by the upright religious folk of Urlingford. But as the earl had fallen fast asleep when the witch entered the chamber, there was no reason to question her slightly ruffled state or the flaming color in her cheeks. She nodded in sober solemnity. A blessed angel from above was watching out for her this day.
And with a triumphant smile, she reminded herself that not only had she not been found in the earl’s arms by the witch, she had skillfully rid herself of that blasted coin.
“Aye, and I wish him good fortune with it,” she murmured, and left the room with nary another thought about what she had just said and done.
Chapter 4
It was not, however, the noise of his own snoring that awoke Captain James Dermott Huntington, the new Earl of Drennan. Much like the princess who could not lie asleep on a pea, he
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