Page 28 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
Perhaps I will be able to implement anything Nora teaches me this evening when I next see my dear Mark, and no one need be any the wiser.
She would, of course, tell Nora if things blossomed into something more… intense with Mark. But she knew she had to be certain of herself, and him, before she could tell anyone. She did not want to risk the humiliation of professing keener affections, only to discover that, for Mark, it was a matter of lust.
If it does become something more intense, however, I wonder if my body will be able to bear the pleasure of it.
A secret smile formed upon her lips as she recalled the weight of Mark’s athletic, bare-chested body on top of her, and the heat of his kisses across her skin. His manhood, shielded behind his trousers, had only grazed her most intimate domain for a moment before they were interrupted, yet it had ignited more euphoria within her than anything she had ever experienced. That experience was limited to less than a handful of encounters, but still…
“Now, I should warn you before we sit down to dinner, that—” Nora began, but had no time to finish as a familiar figure intercepted them on their way to the dining hall.
Mark dipped his head in a halfhearted bow. “I see you have orchestrated an ambush, dear Nora.” He lifted his gaze to Johanna. “Had I known, I would have worn a suit of armor. At the very least, I would have brought wax to stuff my ears and possibly asked Denninson to poke me in the eyes, so Mrs. Carlton does not claim I am looking at her in a rude fashion.”
“Would it kill you to be civil?” Nora rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tell either of you because I wanted us to have a pleasant evening. But fear not, I’ve seated you at opposite ends of the table.”
Johanna met Mark’s eyes, and saw a flicker of irreverence in those warm, almost amber pools. Evidently, he was sticking to their promise, keeping up appearances while in mutual company. She pretended to dab at her mouth with a handkerchief to hide the amused smile that threatened to form.
“I am pleased to hear it,” she said to Nora, “for I would be conscious of his ghastly perfume if he were seated next to me. Tell me, Lord Sinclair, did you leave anything left in your bottle of scent? When one istoofragrant, it rather undoes the subtlety of a pleasant aroma.”
Mark smirked. “I should have remembered that witches have a heightened sense of smell.”
“You have put on rather a lot, Carlton.” Nora crinkled up her nose and eyed him curiously. “And, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve oiled your hair differently. Yes… and that’s a new cravat! Youneverwear reds.” She paused. “You realize that I haven’t invited any other ladies to dine with us, don’t you? I’m certain I told you it would just be gentlemen.”
Looking a little taken aback by Nora’s comment, Mark adjusted the dark red cravat. “I thought you might just be saying that, so I would not make myself appear irresistible. But you know I do not need all the embellishments for that.”
He has changed his hair and his cravat for me…
The thought made giddy nerves jump excitably in Johanna’s stomach. No man had ever gone out of their way to impress her before.
“Precisely, as no lady outside of Bedlam would find you irresistible,” she tossed back, hoping she was not being too harsh. In truth, she thought he looked remarkably handsome. But then, he always had.
Nora tugged on Johanna’s hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to separate you before you start tearing at one another’s throats.” She glanced at Mark. “But please, for the sake of all our noses, go and dab some water on yourself to dilute that perfume.”
Mark laughed good-naturedly and wandered off in search of a basin. Discreetly, Johanna watched him go, admiring the muscular shape of his buttocks as he walked, and the confident swing of his large, strong hands, which could make her tremble with just a touch.
Chapter Seventeen
When Nora had sent word to him, inviting him to dinner that evening, Mark had not expected to be seated at what could only be described as a cattle market. Of course, he had endured many balls arranged by desperate mothers, filled with eligible bachelors who might make their daughters a fortuitous husband. He had also seen the reverse, but this felt… sordidly intimate.
“I had a peaceful evening of reading planned,” Kenneth murmured to Mark and Liam. “Why did Nora insist on my being here? I do not know any of these gentlemen.”
Liam shook his head. “She did not insist.Idid, so I would not have to bear it alone.”
“What is the nature of this dinner?” Mark gazed at Johanna, who sat at the very opposite end of the dinner table, and tried to suppress the jealousy that blazed in his veins.
There were six other gentlemen at the table, and all were vying for Johanna’s attentions. And she appeared to be entertaining their affections. He could hear her sweet, captivating laughter from here, and though he reveled in seeing her smile, he did not want it to be because of other eager suitors.
She is likely humoring them out of courtesy.She is maintaining the façade, like we promised. That is all.
Now, if only he could convince himself entirely that his suspicions were true.
Liam shrugged. “My darling wife is attempting a sort of matchmaking, I believe. Apparently, she thinks Mrs. Carlton is suffering in her loneliness, and wishes to find a companion for her.”
“Not a husband?” Kenneth pursed his lips, visibly disapproving.
Liam beckoned for his two friends to lean closer. “You cannot repeat any of this, but I heard that Mrs. Carlton and her husband did not have the happiest of marriages. As such, it is my understanding that Mrs. Carlton is reluctant to marry again.” He paused. “Nora has always had a more… modern perspective than most, and she is of the opinion that Mrs. Carlton requires a lover in order to heal from her previous marriage.”
“Is that so? Did Nora say why their marriage was so intolerable?” Mark replied, feigning nonchalance. Though, in truth, he was eager to hear more of Nora’s insight, by way of Liam.
“Does she not worry for Mrs. Carlton’s reputation?” Kenneth looked horrified, interrupting Mark’s line of questioning.
