Page 11 of A Very Roguish Boxing Day
Then, there was the fact that nobody was interested.
But Tom Talbot was capable… more than capable.He wasn’t even breathing heavily.
And she knew it was all an act, but the leering grin he was giving her was remarkably convincing.
“Here we are,” he said, setting her down beside the glossy black carriage.He pulled open the door and offered her his hand.“After you, m’lady.”
“Oh!”she exclaimed, accepting his hand as she climbed in.“I’m not a lady.Just a plain miss… er, missus.”
“That’s all right,” he said easily, taking the rear-facing seat opposite her.“What would you like me to call you?”
She thought for a moment.“Gwendolyn.”
He inclined his head.“A pleasure to meet you, Gwendolyn.”
“Likewise, Mr.Talbot.”
One corner of his mouth twisted up.“I’m not sure anyone’s ever called meMr.Talbot.Only gentry coves get amisteron the front end of their name.”
Gwen felt her cheeks heating.“I’m sorry.”
He waved a hand.“Don’t be.But you can call me Tom, Tommy… whatever you like.”
“Very well, Tom.”She flushed red.Calling himTomfelt shockingly intimate.
Just wait until you’re lying naked beneath him.
Perfect.Now, she was breaking out in hives.
Across the carriage, Mr.Talbot… er, Tom… cleared his throat.“So, I assume you read my conditions?”
She peered at him in the shadowy carriage.“Conditions?”She hadn’t had time to read anything as she hadn’t realized she would be doing this until an hour ago.“I’m afraid not.”
She could just make out his brow lowering in the dim light.“We’d better go over them now, then.Make sure there won’t be any surprises.”
She nodded.“That sounds advisable, Mr.… Tom.”
“So, the gist of it is, there won’t be any hitting, choking, biting?—”
“Oh, my gracious!”Gwen cried, shocked to her core.“I wouldneverdo any of that!”
He gave her a strange look.“What I meant was,Iwon’t be hittingyou.”
Gwen was entirely confused.“I should hope not.Did I misunderstand the nature of the auction?Is what I purchased a… a boxing lesson?”
“No, no.We’re going to…” He trailed off.Gwen took it that he was searching his boxer’s vocabulary for the least offensive term.He finally settled on, “Tup.”
“I see,” Gwendolyn said, even though she did not.After a fraught pause, she added, “Am I to understand that the reason you have a list of things you refuse to do is because women have requested these particular, um… services… in the past?”
“That they have,” Tom said, his voice holding a grim note.
Gwendolyn rubbed her brow.Gracious, she must understand even less about what she was about to do than she had thought.“I’m sorry.I am at something of a loss as to why someone might request such a thing.”
For some reason, this made Tom grin.“You and me both.But that’s good.Sounds like we’ll rub along just fine.So, you mentioned being a missus.”
“I am a widow,” Gwen hastened to reassure him.“You don’t have to worry that you are abetting me in breaking my marriage vows.”
“Right.”He was studying her keenly.“Let me guess, your husband wasn’t, how you say, satisfactory as a lover?”
