A Scoundrel by Moonlight (Sons of Sin 4)
He knew she wasn’t trying to look seductive, but her sideways glance under those heavy lashes got him all hot and bothered again. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Your pretense at humility. You’re too remarkable, my beguiling Miss Trim, to fade into the wainscoting.”
His praise didn’t please her. “But I am a mere servant.”
His laugh held genuine amusement. When he’d rolled off her, he’d felt like the lowest worm in creation, but this odd conversation restored his spirits. “You’re not a mere anything, Eleanor.”
Her eyes darkened in a way that did nothing to cool his simmering blood. “You shouldn’t call me that.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” he admitted ruefully, even as he wanted her to call him James. But that was a step too far, however ludicrous that seemed when he knew how she tasted and the precise raspberry shade of her nipples. “I’ve had my hand down your dress. Calling you Miss Trim seems a little silly.”
Blushing, she shot him a resentful look. “I’d like you to forget that.”
“For my peace of mind, it would be better if I did,” he said wearily. Except he’d never forget it. That exquisite moment when he’d cupped her and heard her gasp with delight would haunt him forever.
“Can I go?” she asked.
“Can I stop you?”
“You did before.”
Yes, when he’d been desperate to learn why she’d intruded into his room. After that, he’d been desperate to kiss her. He wasn’t a man familiar with desperation. Until the mysterious Eleanor Trim entered his life.
She was dangerous. And not just because he couldn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. He still didn’t know why she’d turned up tonight. She left him so befuddled, he hardly cared anymore. He sighed heavily. “Yes, you can go.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She abandoned him to a restless night. Damn it. Leath returned his attention to the fire, muffling the traitorous wish to be a different man, with different responsibilities. A free man without the weight of family expectations riding on his shoulders. A man who wasn’t quite so nice about his honor.
He’d grab Miss Trim and kiss her into conceding. Then he’d make sure they both enjoyed a restless night. Twined together like ivy.
He’d expected her to rush away, but she left the bed slowly, almost reluctantly. Did she want to prolong his torment? If so, she succeeded mightily. He didn’t trust himself to look at her. If he did, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
He heard her pad across to the door and he waited to hear the click as she left. When the silence extended, he braced himself to turn.
She stood across the room, rumpled, beautiful, alluring. Wide brown eyes studied him as if he presented an unanswerable question. He should find consolation in knowing that he wasn’t alone in his confusion.
“My lord…” She rested her hand on the doorknob as if preparing for a quick escape. He couldn’t blame her, given what had happened last time she’d tried to leave.
“My lord,” she repeated softly, “I didn’t kiss you because I work for you. I kissed you because… I’ve wondered, too.”
What the devil?
“Eleanor?” Before he’d decided to stand, he was on his feet. He surged forward, although even now, he recognized that he couldn’t tumble her and call himself a man of principle.
That miracle of a mouth, the mouth that tasted like heaven, curved into a wry smile. “Good night, sir.”
She bobbed a brief curtsy, then fled before he caught her.
Chapter Nine
Leath’s eyes were the color of a stormy sky.
Such a trivial fact for Nell to dwell upon, but easier than recalling how she’d teetered on the brink of disaster. When he’d risen above her on the bed, eyes of astonishing beauty had transfixed her. Not brown as she’d expected, but steel gray with a charcoal line around the irises, shadowed to mystery by sooty eyelashes. She was surprised she’d noticed so much with him lying between her legs, lifting her skirts.
Now the morning after tasted bitter, and she cringed at her unbridled behavior. Shame churned in her stomach as she approached the marchioness’s rooms. Lord Leath had seduced Dorothy. How could Nell kiss the brute with such enthusiasm? How could she let him touch her in ways no man had touched her before?
Dorothy had entrusted her vengeance to an unworthy instrument.