An Earl of her Own (Saints and Sinners 3)

Her brow puckered. “Are you finished writing it?”

“Yes,” he murmured, collecting his letter and waving it in the air to show her. “I just need to summon a servant to deliver it to Gable Park.”

Rebecca nodded. “If you will excuse me, I need to retrieve something of mine from the desk, and then I’ll be on my way again.”

Adam quickly grabbed his bottle of rum and got out of the way.

As Rebecca bent over the desk, shuffling papers, his cock perked up when she seemed to waggle her derriere in his direction. She had not meant to do it, of course, but Adam couldn’t seem to look away. Rebecca Warner was a nicely shaped wench, pleasant to hold. Her lustrous brown hair—quite long, he suspected—was elegantly coiled at the back of her head. She had a narrow waist, he knew, from the carriage accident, and an ample pair of breasts that he imagined would fill his hands nicely.

He looked up at the ceiling and cursed softly. “I must be mad,” he muttered.

“What was that, my lord?”

“Oh, nothing.” Adam stuck a finger into his collar to loosen his cravat. He turned away to look out the nearest window, too, in a bid to get his ardor to cool. “I was just thinking out loud.”

“About the view?”

About her. Rebecca Warner drew his attention—and it wasn’t just today, either. The haughtier she acted, the more appealing she seemed, and the more he wanted to annoy her, too. He feared he was becoming infatuated with the idea of bedding her. To do so would be a delicate undertaking. He’d never heard of another gentleman succeeding with her—or even trying, for that matter. He’d be the second brave soul perhaps to win the honor of bedding her, if successful. Maybe the luckiest man still alive? “The views at Stapleton are quite lovely.”

“Indeed. Father is very proud of the gardens.”

He turned slowly and set the bottle aside. He noted the lady’s appeal was not diminished by her factual reply. She gave a man no encouragement whatsoever, and he didn’t even mind. It was no wonder she had not remarried. She had an excellent pedigree and was hardly penniless—not that he knew her situation with any certainty. Still, a duke’s daughter should have been sought after for a wife long before now.

Adam expected to be rebuffed should he attempt to seduce her, but the devil in him wouldn’t quit whispering in his ear that persistence often won the day. Rebecca had been a widow some years now. He recalled hearing about her husband’s infidelity, tupping a servant behind her back, causing an embarrassing scandal. Rebecca probably lived a moral life in response to that, and he suspected that might be why she remained a widow still.

Adam believed he would have no trouble pleasing her in bed should she extend him an invitation. But would she ever? Rebecca was undoubtedly a challenge—and he’d not had a worthy one in some time.

He held her stare until she seemed to squirm. “It is not just the gardens that I admire here.”

Her lips parted slightly but then her brow puckered again. “Are you foxed?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he promised without shame. “And I intend to stay that way for the rest of the night, madam.”

“Typical of you.” She glared at him, censure in her gaze, before looking back at her papers. She scooped them up with an unhappy grumble.

Adam did not mind when Rebecca pointed out his failings. He was often deep in his cups. The duke was an excellent host and encouraged his companions to indulge to excess. Or he had before his second marriage. Rebecca certainly had noticed his enthusiastic participation on past occasions and scowled constantly for it, too. To get closer to this lady, or any lady at all, he might need to curtail certain pleasures that he usually relied upon to cure his loneliness. A small sacrifice. What would it hurt to try to please her just once?

Since delicacy had never been his way, he chose not to mince words now about his intentions. “I tell you only so you might be forewarned not to expect too much from me right now. I would not perform at my best in such a state.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What reason could I have to worry about your performance? You don’t play an instrument.”

“I could be tempted to play your body, if invited.” He drew closer to her, enjoying the challenge she presented and her shocked expression.

Rebecca’s eyes widened as he approached, but s

he didn’t draw back or let him out of her sight for one moment. “You have mistaken me for someone else.”

“Impossible, madam.” He stopped inches away and inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of her perfume tickled his nose. She was refreshingly predictable. “You could invite me to your bed tomorrow night.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Sensing a chance, he reached out one hand and brushed his fingers across her soft cheek. She seemed frozen in place. He’d expected only one reaction—for her to move out of range. Since she remained, Adam bent his head down a little more.

When she still did not move, he smiled. “I knew you liked me.”

A delicate hand landed on his chest, and she shoved him back hard. “Eh, you stink of the bottle!”

He nodded but cursed the unfortunate timing of his decision to try to kiss her today. If not for the drink on his breath, he might have received that invitation. “I promise you, I won’t next time.”