My Reckless Surrender

His gaze left her face to sweep her body. Long black lashes shadowed his cheeks. They should look feminine. They didn’t.

Astonishingly, in spite of her nervousness and her irritation with this dissipated scoundrel who refused to fulfill her expectations, her skin tightened in arousal. As the cool gaze studied her breasts, her nipples hardened.

Surely it was fear that stirred her reaction. Her suddenly damp palms. The frantic tattoo of her pulse.

She never lied to herself. Something in her responded to this dismissive, arrogant, spectacular man. Something long denied, crushed, unfamiliar, perturbing. Planning this reckless gamble, she’d never factored in cravings of her own.

“Lord Ashcroft?” she asked sharply when his attention didn’t shift from her bosom.

The eyes he raised were opaque, like cloudy green ice. “My dear lady, flattered as I am, I must decline your generous offer.”

Chapter Two

The earl’s voice was wintry. He sounded as if he turned away an importuning tradesman. To Diana’s chagrin, her color rose higher. Anger stirred. Anger and shock.

Wildly, she cast around for some inducement to convince him he wanted her in his bed. She looked into that handsome, implacable face and saw not a spark of attraction. Not even a spark of interest.

Mortification knotted her belly. She wanted to be proud and disdainful. Treat him with the contempt he obviously felt for her. Instead, one shaky word emerged from her lips. “Why?”

Annoyance darkened his striking features. “Madam, there is no point in…”

As she rose, her legs were unsteady. She had no idea what to do, she was lost, bewildered, embarrassed. She couldn’t countenance defeat even though defeat stared her in the face. And so early in the game. “Your pardon.”

He stood as she did and rounded the desk in two or three powerful strides. Blindly she turned toward the door. She should stay, fight him. All she wanted right now was to leave.

The glittering, magnificent reward that lured her to prostitute herself sailed completely out of reach. She couldn’t bear it.

“Madam. Diana…”

She made a gesture of denial although the sound of her Christian name in that deep, vibrant voice made every nerve buzz with awareness. Her trembling hand closed around the doorknob and turned it.

The door didn’t budge.

A large masculine hand flattened on the mahogany panel in front of her. A large masculine hand attached to a long masculine arm.

Panic joined her whirling maelstrom of emotions.

They were alone. It was his house. She’d placed herself outside the protections society offered chaste women.

The breath jammed in her lungs. Slowly, she turned and looked up at him. Surprising really, how far up. She hadn’t realized quite how tall he was. His body was so beautifully proportioned, his height hadn’t seemed unusual when he’d stood for her entrance and exit.

Except she clearly wasn’t making an exit anytime soon.

“What do you want?” she asked in a thready whisper, her eyes fastening on that remarkable face, with its intelligence and wickedness.

“Perhaps I want you,” Ashcroft murmured. And watched her gray eyes darken with fear and a fascination she couldn’t hide, much as he knew she tried to.

Which made no sense when she’d boldly offered herself, cool as a drink of springwater on a summer’s day.

She had beautiful eyes. Large, clear, and brilliant, shadowed by thick dark gold lashes that matched her elegant brows but not her bright gold hair, just visible under the bonn

et.

Ashcroft frowned down at the woman, the pores of his skin tightening with unwelcome arousal. And warning.

Nothing about her added up. He didn’t trust her. Instinct urged him to throw her out on her stylish rump and pray he never encountered her again.

Yet he wasn’t entirely ready to let her go.