Page 3 of To Tame a Wicked Widow

“Come now, Lady Upcott,” said an unknown elderly man wearing a vicar’s collar. “A woman like you would hardly be invited to such a solemn and proper occasion as the funeral of a great man of the ton.”

The barb stung. Surprisingly, while the witches tittered, Lord Dare didn’t appear amused. “Why don’t you three go on inside. I’m sure Lady Upcott’s servants will direct you to your rooms.”

Even more surprisingly, the three obeyed without argument, leaving her and the viscount standing alone on the steps.

The silence lengthened, until finally, she said lamely, “How was your journey?”

“Adequate,” he replied, rolling his massive shoulders in an obvious effort to ease muscle discomfort. “And by adequate, I mean purgatory. Those three do not comprehend the virtue of silence.”

A startled laugh escaped. “Faith and Winifred view silence as a lady’s failure to guide conversation. The vicar I cannot comment on, as I have not yet had the pleasure of conversing with him.”

“Avoid it as long as you possibly can. He adheres to my cousins’ opinion that you are a harlot and a garish red-headed whore of Babylon.”

All the air whooshed from Madeline’s lungs, and she choked. “Uh…”

Lord Dare winced and rubbed his forehead. “Forgive me. I am inept when it comes to social niceties. Far too much time spent in dusty libraries and desert digs, not nearly enough conversing with ladies in ballrooms or parlors. I must remember to think before I speak.”

“Some might consider your inclination toward honesty rather than guile refreshing, my lord.”

“Might they?” he said softly, those amber eyes fixing on her in a way that made her nipples tauten painfully against her stays.

Madeline swallowed hard. What was it about this young lord that made her body react like this? He wasn’t indulging in flirtation. He wasn’t even touching her. And yet she wanted to run her fingers through his slightly rumpled hair. Kiss that dimple. Slap the hat from his hands and see if his trouser bulge fulfilled the promise that his stature suggested. “Indeed.”

“That is good to know. My mother considers me a lost cause.”

“Then we have something in common.”

Lord Dare rolled his shoulders again, and she had to curl her fingers into fists to stop herself from touching him. Perhaps offering an oil massage. While naked.

Good grief. She had quite lost her mind. Especially unhelpful in the current situation, with a houseful of guests who would watch her like a hawk and do everything they could to make her life dismal. She had to be on guard, not indulging in explicit daydreams.

Madeline cleared her throat. “It is a little chilly out here. Won’t you come inside? I’ll show you to your chamber.”

“That would be most kind,” he replied, his gaze quizzical.

Damn him thrice. Why did he have to look disappointed, as though he didn’t want the private conversation to end?

“Do come this way,” she said in her best impersonal lady of the manor voice as they crossed the small entrance hall and made their way to the stairs. “As head of the family, I have placed you in Sir Josiah’s old chamber. I hope you’ll find it comfortable. Would you like a bath before supper? It is no trouble to have the copper tub sent up. Oh, by the by, is your valet travelling separately?”

Lord Dare shook his head. “I don’t have one. Another rebellion against English propriety, foolish I know. But I got used to attending to my own needs while travelling, and rather like the privacy and independence.”

Again, Madeline imagined him entirely naked and attending to his own needs, and she stumbled, only halted from kissing the wooden stairs by a large hand curling around her upper arm. Even through the sleeve of her gown she could feel the heat and strength, and she barely suppressed a moan at the thought of those long, nimble fingers on her bare skin. Pinching her nipples until they were so sensitive she could scarcely bear the pressure. Circling her swollen clitoris. Twisting and teasing deep inside her pussy as he found that special spot that launched her to the heavens.

“Lady Upcott? Are you well?”

Heat scorched across her cheekbones. No, she most certainly wasn’t well. Well women did not entertain wild, erotic fantasies of bedding their late husband’s second cousin. Especially not one barely graduated from university.

Even wicked widows had to observe some proprieties.

“Oh yes,” Madeline said with a false, bright smile.

She would just have to grit her teeth and keep him at arm’s length.

No matter how much she wanted otherwise.

* * *

Setting down his leather-bound journal with a thump, Ethan groaned.