A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“And the gentlemen?”

“Hunt cheetahs rather than foxes.”

“I wouldn’t want to flush a cheetah out of a hole.”

“No, Miss Darling.” Lockhart laughed. “Neither would I.”

When their amusement faded, he waited for her to ask another question. She didn’t. She glanced at the fire burning low in the grate. Despite numerous attempts to stifle a yawn, she failed miserably.

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; But he did not want to go to sleep. He wanted to look at her, to hear her voice, to talk until sunrise.

“Now that we’re considered fully fledged actors,” he said, “it is time to test our skill. Let us play a game.”

“A game? What would you have us do?”

Was she eager to prolong this moment, too, or did embarrassment about sleeping next to him play a part?

“You understand that married couples who are madly in love have intimate relations on a regular basis.”

“No, but I shall take you at your word,” she said with some apprehension.

“And you understand that we must make our marriage look convincing.”

She hesitated before saying, “Yes, but I am not jumping on the bed whilst wearing this nightgown.”

“No, of course not.” That would be a step too far when in the company of a man with lascivious intentions. “But we should practise our sighs of pleasure.”

“Sighs of pleasure?” Miss Darling jerked her head back. “I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Then you admit I am the better actor?”

Would she take the bait?

She arched a brow. “Your argument is weak, sir, as you have had to do little to embrace the role of husband.”

“Little? Madam, do you not recall one scandalous kiss on the terrace?”

As she shrugged, the coverlet slipped to reveal an inch of bare shoulder. He had seen naked women many times before but nothing as erotic as a forbidden glimpse of her milky-white skin.

Regrettably, she rectified the problem.

“I’m sure you’ve kissed many women, and so it was no great hardship. It was different for me as you’re the only man I’ve kissed.”

Lockhart gave a boyish wink. “We could practise kissing if you’d like to work on your performance.”

She snorted. “It is you who needs practice.”

“Me?” He frowned, affronted at the suggestion he lacked skill with his tongue.

“You kiss like a man consumed with lust when you’re supposed to kiss like a man in love.”

“Is there a difference?” Honestly, he did not know.

“Of course there’s a difference.”

Ah, the lady had fallen nicely into his trap. “Show me.” Before she could protest, he added, “A man needs a tutor if he hopes to learn a new skill.”