Earl of Sussex (Wicked Lords of London 0.50)

“What do you spend your days doing, my lord?”

Surprise again flitted across his features. The little chit was judging him. What was more, she had found him to be lacking. It was he who was supposed to reject her. “Why you little…”

“Tut tut.” She raised her finger between them and he had the absurd urge to kiss it, lick it. Mayhap give it a little nibble. “You don’t want to marry me either, remember.”

“With a tongue like that—” he started but he saw the hurt cross her face. Her luscious lips turned down at the corners, her eyes crinkled and her shoulders dropped. Then she straightened back up. He admired her tenacity and a little guilt wiggled through him that he had made her feel such. Truly he didn’t mind a little banter; in fact, he quite enjoyed it. A woman with no spark would be dull indeed and he shouldn’t have said it.

“But you’re right about neither of us wanting to marry. What do you propose?”

Her frown turned to a glowing smile in a second and he basked in its radiance. It lit her face, making him smile in return. “I’m so glad you agree. I can’t ruin our relationship. I’ll never socially recover. But you, you’re a known rake. You could be caught tupping a maid or—”

His body clenched and damn it all to hell if his cock didn’t swell at the word tupping coming from her full sweet lips. If only he could tup her. The swell of her hips begged for his other hand. “Did you just suggest I tup a maid?”

“Yes, but you must be caught.” She gave him an eager nod.

“This is your plan?” His eyebrows lifted as he assessed her.

One of her fingers rested on her bottom lip as she considered him. He wanted to replace that finger with his mouth. But she seemed unaware of how she was affecting him as she spoke. “My parents only told me of your visit this morning. I am sure they didn’t want me to have much time for planning.”

His eyebrows rose higher. “Do you scheme often?”

“Only when necessary.” Her tone implied that should be obvious. He tried to hide his grin. Damned if she wasn’t interesting.

“You are a lady, how do you even know what tupping is?”

“You’d be amazed what you hear when by the wall.” She gave him a grin. Her eyes danced with a merriment that was infectious.

“You do realize whatever maid I was caught with would be sacked.” He crossed his arms then but immediately regretted it. He missed her heat under his hand, the feel of her body.

But he had to stop thinking this way. While this entire conversation had been far more entertaining than he’d ever dreamed possible, it would probably be best to put it to an end.

“Drat.” Her little slippered foot stomped on the plush carpet. He’d like to see that foot, and the calf attached to it. Perhaps he’d slide her skirt higher up her thigh until he…

“Lady Tabitha, you’ve been over by that window for far too long. Please come back to the settee,” her chaperone called.

“Keep thinking of ideas.” Her gloved hand rested upon his lapel covering his pin emblazoned with the W. His body clenched again and his fingers itched to return to her hip. “We must come up with a plan quickly. Meet me in the library tonight at the stroke of twelve so that we may decide what to do.”

It was a terrible idea. If caught, there would be no escaping marriage. But, it was also exceedingly fun and the last thing he had ever expected from this meeting today. And so, he was absolutely going.

Chapter 2

Dinner had been the exact affair he would have expected coming to a duke’s country estate. A dull, tedious event full of bland conversation and, he had to admit, excellent wine.

Though when his glass had been refilled, he’d seen Lady Tabitha eye him over the table and give a subtle shake of her head. Blasted woman. They weren’t even engaged yet and she was already limiting his alcohol.

But he set the glass down and excused himself from the table. Meeting her eyes as he reached the door, he crooked his finger at her.

Her eyes widened as she glanced around the table to see who might have noticed. But no one had.

Stepping into the hall, he waited for more than a few minutes until she joined him. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed as she reached his side. “We’ll be married by the morning.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides, you’ve married us in your mind anyway, telling me not to drink.” He glared at her in accusation.

She gave a little shrug. It highlighted the soft curve of her creamy shoulder. He followed the neck of her dress to where there was just a hint of cleavage visible above the ivory fabric. He’d love to lick the spot just above it, then—

“I simply wanted you to have all your mental faculties this evening. It’s both our futures at stake here.”

Well, that was a bloody good point. But he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he stepped forward and whispered, “Just don’t make a habit of it.”