A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“Hear them?”

“The questions you should ask.”

Claudia managed a weak smile. “Certainly.”

He lounged back in the wooden chair. “You should ask how we plan to make others believe we’re in love. You should ask what I wear to bed. If I plan to make love to other women whilst partaking in our little game of deception.”

“Do you?” she suddenly said as jealousy slithered through her veins for his imagined infidelity.

“What? Sleep naked? Of course.”

She quickly dismissed the vision filling her head. “Do you plan to bed other women while playing the doting husband?”

Mr Lockhart straightened, his gaze growing intense as he stared at her across the table. “When in a committed relationship, you shall never meet a more faithful gentleman.”

“You class me assisting you in deception as being in a committed relationship?”

“I’m saying that you will have my undivided attention, Miss Darling. As your husband, legally or not, I shall remain devoted, dutiful in my care and consideration.”

The heat from her cheeks moved in a southerly direction.

How wonderful it must be to hear those words and know a

man meant them.

“And you think people will believe ours is a love match?” she asked, addressing his first point. “It is impossible to feign love.”

An arrogant smirk made him appear devilish. “The look of love and the look of lust are similar.”

“I disagree,” she said, noting the way his gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts. “Love is conveyed through eye contact.” And so she had no hope of being convincing. “Lust involves detailed scrutiny of the whole body.”

Without warning, Mr Lockhart pushed out of the chair.

“Show me.” He snatched his glass and swallowed a mouthful of wine before skirting around the table. “Give me your hand, Miss Darling.”

She should insist he sit down for he was intent on embarrassing her. And yet the defiant woman inside, the one who had found the courage to deal with Mr Thorncroft, wanted to show this man that she could be bold, too.

“I am more than happy to demonstrate my meaning,” she said, placing her hand in his.

With the absence of gloves, the touch of his skin sent her pulse racing. He drew her to her feet and led her to the centre of the room.

“Let us pretend we are at Lady Cotterill’s ball. We have escaped to the terrace, desperate for a minute alone.” He kept a firm hold of her hand. “Music drifts out from the ballroom. Stars twinkle in a clear sky.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It is.” The arrogance faded for a moment as he stared at her. “Now show me. Teach me the difference between the look of love and that of lust.”

He spoke as if she were an expert. In truth, she was just a naive girl experienced in fanciful dreams. Still, she closed her eyes briefly and attempted to step into the role. After all, this might be his way of testing her ability to act.

“Which emotion shall I demonstrate first?” she whispered.

“Lust. Show me what lust looks like to you, Miss Darling.”

Pushing aside her embarrassment, and with her eyes still closed, Claudia focused on the warmth of his skin radiating through her palm. She pictured his tongue sweeping over his lips, the muscular thighs bulging against the material of his breeches, recalled the tickle of his hot breath at her nape.

When she opened her eyes, she looked at him as if ravenous to taste him, to touch him, to devour every inch of his body. She scanned the breadth of his chest, the broad shoulders, his mouth, his hair. A hum left her lips.

It was easy when she wasn’t looking into his eyes.