His gaze drifted from the card table to the people gathered around. For every game, there was a good number of guests just watching. Some paying particular attention to every hand.
What if our blackmailer isn’t a card player? What if they are someone who likes to watch and over time figured out Lady Linton’s trick?
“Can you recall what the original note said?” he asked.
“Something about seeing Mama adding up her tally wrong. Why?” replied Bridget.
He rose and offered her his hand. There was little point in them lingering at the party any longer. And they needed to talk. “I think that might be enough for this evening. Let me escort you home.”
The instant their fingers touched; a thrill of need sent all thoughts of lists fleeing from Stephen’s mind. A sensible man would have let go as soon as Bridget had got to her feet, but he didn’t. Instead, he was rooted to the spot staring at her.
At those blue eyes in which he was certain the unmistakable glaze of lust shone.
She is as affected by my touch as I am hers. This is dangerous territory.
“If you like, we could share a glass of wine at my home. We could go over our thoughts from this evening and make further plans. I have a well-rounded Shiraz I think you might enjoy,” she said.
“That would be very nice. You can even take a pencil and put a strike through Lady Bell’s name,” he replied.
Stephen couldn’t care less about the wine or the list. He just wanted to get Bridget alone.
Chapter Thirteen
To her relief, only one footman was waiting in the foyer when Bridget and Stephen made it back to Berkeley Square. Dismissing him as quickly as possible, she led Stephen upstairs.
He was right on her heels when she stepped into the drawing room. He closed the door swiftly behind him and turned the key in the lock.
His large frame filled her entire field of vision as she turned to face him. She sensed a momentary hint of danger but quickly pushed all worries aside. For this man’s touch, she would risk it all.
“Bridget.”
Just hearing him speak her name in such a sultry manner had heat pooling in her loins. Her nipples pressed hard against the fabric of her chemise. And from the look on his face, it was clear that Stephen was standing right alongside her on the edge of desire. Any moment now he would take hold of her hand, and together they would leap into the abyss.
His fingertips brushed over her cheek and he smiled. “You are blushing again. Tell me, Bridget, what is it that has your blood so heated?”
She swallowed deeply. “You. Every time you look at me, I ache for your touch.”
A large hand cupped the back of her head, and he leaned in, placing a soft, barely there, kiss on her lips. Bridget shivered as a frisson of lust raced down her spine. It was still tingling in her toes when Stephen leaned in and kissed her a second time.
This kiss, while still tender, was more certain. More controlled. His lips worked slowly over hers, gentle at first, almost as if he were asking for her permission. For a man of such determined action, this was most unexpected, but also very welcome.
She was no wilting and timid virgin. In her first year or so of marriage, Bridget had experienced many long afternoons of passionate lovemaking. She knew exactly what she wanted from a man—what she craved from Stephen.
He blazed a trail of hot, delicious kisses down the side of her neck. Bridget groaned.
His hands settled on the front of her gown, lightly cupping her breasts. Her already firm nipples instantly peaked, aching for his attention. When his thumb stroked over the hardened bud, she trembled.
Thank heavens I wore my light stays.
She was still fully invested in the kiss when Stephen broke it off and took a hurried step back. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It isn’t right.”
All of Bridget’s hopes for a night of wild, passionate sex evaporated in an instant. Her lust-fired body cooled.
He doesn’t want me.
Stephen slowly shook his head. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Bridget. I don’t mean we shouldn’t ever share a bed. Lord knows you are a beautiful and tempting woman. It’s just that the timing is not right. You are my client. I don’t sleep with people who are paying me. I am a rake not a fancy man.”
“I understand, and that makes perfect sense. I would never wish for you to feel that you were anything other than a full partner in any sexual encounter,” she replied.
