Undressed by the Earl by Michelle Willingham

her candor. Honestly, though, she saw no reason to play games.
    This time, she saw a hint of candor in his answering smile. “I really do like you, you know.”
    “Of course you do. I’m quite likable.” Amelia’s heart twisted with elation when he dropped the façade and spoke the truth. Even so, she needed him to understand the woman she was. “I’m not as empty-headed as the sheep that flock to your side at every ball.”
    He blinked at that. “No, I don’t suppose you are.” Brushing a lock of hair back, he added, “This isn’t at all the way I envisioned our drive. I somehow thought you liked me better.”
    Oh, she did—there was no doubt of that. But pretty words meant nothing.
    She straightened her shoulders and offered a compliment to soothe him. “You are quite handsome. Anyone can see that. But I think we need time to get acquainted before you speak with my father, don’t you?”
    “You’re right,” Lord Lisford admitted. “And forgive me for speaking so boldly. It was just…I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.”
    Amelia let out a sigh. “Perhaps the sheep enjoy that, but I would prefer the truth, above all else.”
    “You are nothing like your older sister,” he remarked.
    “Of course not. Margaret obeys every rule, down to the last punctuation mark. I, however, believe that certain rules may be bent under the right circumstances.”
    The smoldering look was back, and Amelia forced her attention back to the clear waters of the Serpentine. Charles Newport was a devastatingly handsome man with a great deal of experience wooing women. And she did want to be wooed, but only after she knew this man. She didn’t want empty words.
    “May I kiss your hand?” he asked softly.
    Yes , her impulsive side wanted to cry out. Your mouth upon my bare skin without gloves.
    But she sensed that if she gave this man a single liberty, Lord Lisford would take matters further. She would become like the string of women he’d wooed and rejected. This was a man who loved the hunt. He wanted a woman who couldn’t be caught. The more she held him at a distance, the stronger his interest would be.
    He was already reaching for her palm when Amelia shook her head. “Not yet.”
    “Are you afraid of me?” His voice was kinder now, as if he were trying to be gentle.
    Amelia shook her head. I’m afraid of myself. She already knew she was very different from her sisters—impulsive and eager to charge into the fray for anything she wanted.
    She believed in seizing every last moment of joy from life. Sensory experiences were a craving she couldn’t deny, whether it involved scent, taste, or most of all, touch. Her body was incredibly sensitive, and she wore corsets and chemises from Aphrodite’s Unmentionables that would utterly shock Margaret. But she loved the feeling of silk and satin against her skin. She sensed that when she shared a man’s bed for the first time, she would love it.
    And that was too dangerous to imagine. She couldn’t even risk a passionate kiss for fear that her instinctive urges would lead her down a path to ruin. Amelia wanted this man to love her. She didn’t want to be yet another nameless woman out of the dozens he’d courted in the past.
    “Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows,” she said, trying to change the subject—and her imagination—away from kissing.
    He frowned, urging the horses to continue. For a long moment, he thought about it, and finally he said, “Only if you do the same.”
    “All right.” She steeled herself and said, “I’m afraid of heights. I can’t bear to be on a balcony.”
    He inclined his head to show that he’d heard her, and at last he admitted, “I need to marry an heiress.”
    “What man doesn’t?” She shrugged and added, “My father is only a baron, and we’ve struggled a bit over the past few years, but—”
    He interrupted, “I know. But your family is far more settled, now that your eldest sister is