Page 48 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
Chapter 11
He heard her sharp breaths, felt her quaking, and he reined himself in.He wasn’t an unbridled boy.He’d had many lovers.
But Jane?She had little more experience than a virgin just out of the schoolroom.He would gamble his last farthing she hadn’t taken a lover after Reginald Dempsey.
Hell, that preening young jackass wouldn’t have been a proper lover.
When she rolled and faced him, the bedside lamp highlighted the peaks and valleys under the thin gown.
He smoothed a hand along her hip.“How beautiful you are.”
She put a finger to his lips.“No flummery, Shaldon.”
She wanted honesty also, this woman who’d kept such a great secret for so many years.
He wanted to know her secrets.He wanted to knowallof them.
“You’ve had a difficult few days.How did you elude our men on the road?”That question had been nagging at him.
A smug smile curved her lips.“We traveled by sea.”
Bysea?
He laughed.“You clever girl.Wait until I tell Kincaid.But…Ewan spotted you on the London stage.”
“Did he?”
He rubbed at his head.It was her all right, wearing her red shawl…
He brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek and raised up on his elbow.“You clever, clever girl.You gave away your shawl.So intelligent.So beautiful.”
“Flummery.”
“No.”
Her sharp breath warmed him as he kissed her, tasting her sherry-scented lips.It was his last cogent thought.
Wave after waveof sensation rolled through her, igniting more memories.She’d felt this hot desire before, this itchy building pleasure, and pain—the sharp stab of Reginald tearing into her.
And after had come agony.Reginald dead, her brother—who shouldn’t have been there—dead.
Her fault.Her brother’s death had been her fault.
She’d blamed Shaldon too.He’d been in Kent.He’d been at the gathering where they’d died.He’d come the next morning with the news of their deaths.
It had been Shaldon who’d mentioned Reginald’s fiancée.
Kisses, gentle, then demanding, then gentle again, muddled her.Shaldon’s hand had found the hem of her nightgown and was inching it up, shocked pleasure streaking through her.
Had Reginald been so gentle?Aunt Mildred had talked of the deep pleasure of coupling.Reginald’s careless seduction, her thoughtless capitulation, had brought far more pain than pleasure.
Her chest tightened.Death, betrayal, shame—all the ghosts of her past hounded her, and still she felt pleasure.
The nightgown rolled higher.He leaned in and suckled.
This wasn’t the same as before.She wasn’t a child.And—shewantedhim.
She’d robbed him, and he’d caught her out.And he wasn’t angry.
