Page 50 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“Hello Abe,” Brandon said. “Have you saved it for me?”

Abe’s smile revealed two missing front teeth. “I’d never forget ye, my lord.”

Brandon turned to her, and his lips curved in a smile. “Have you ever tried a pineapple?”

“Noooo.” Pineapples were extremely rare and she never had the luxury when she lived in the city. She hadn’t even seen the fruit when she stayed at Huntingdon’s home.

“Rosehill has many gardens, but we lack a pinery. Abe travels from village to village, and he always manages to save one for me. It’s a mystery how he’s able to get one every year.”

Abe winked. “It’s a secret, but I haven’t failed ye yet, my lord.” He reached beneath the table and pulled out a pineapple. Amelia’s eyes widened in wonder, and she reached out to touch the tuft of sword-shaped leaves and the spiny brown skin covering the fruit.

“Let me cut it for ye.” Abe picked up a large knife on the table and sliced off the top, placed the pineapple up side down and cut into the fruit.

Brandon pulled a coin from his pocket and handed it to the old man in exchange for a piece. “The center is the most tender and juicy. You must taste it for yourself.” Brandon held the fruit to her lips.

Amelia knew it was ridiculously improper to allow him to feed her, but unlike inside the stifling confines of the carriage, no one was watching them. She parted her lips, and he placed the tip of the fruit in her mouth. She took a bite and a burst of flavor made her eyes flutter closed. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted—sweet and juicy. She sighed in pure delight.

“It’s delicious,” she said.

A drop of juice lingered on her lower lip. She opened her eyes to find Brandon staring at her mouth, his expression intense.

Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. “I want to lick the juice from your lips.”

She could hardly breathe. Her body tensed with exquisite tension.

“You mustn’t speak to me like that in public.”

“It’s the truth.”

“What if the duchess sees us?”

His steady gaze caused a flurry within her. “I don’t care what the duchess thinks.”

She shouldn’t feel giddy about his statement, but she did. Heaven, she did. He didn’t care about Lady Minerva or her large dowry. Even though he needed the money, and most men of his station would grasp at the titled heiress, he didn’t.

The shocking truth struck her. He was willing to kiss her here, in the center of the village fair, surrounded by scores of people.

She almost gave in. Almost. All that held her back was a small voice of reason that echoed in her brain. She didn’t want to get caught in a compromising position. The consequences would be too serious. She had no desire to be forced to the altar. Lust was one thing; a forced marriage something else entirely.

Her future plans included exhibitions and art critics, not marriage.

“In private, then?” His eyes clung to hers, waiting for her reaction.

Her heartbeat escalated beneath his heated gaze. She longed for his kiss; her body ached for his touch.

Her voice was a mere whisper. “Yes.”

Unmistakable desire flashed in his eyes. He led her away from the stall, and they walked through the fair to the outskirts of the village green in silence. They left the crowd behind, and he continued toward a line of trees leading into the woods. The noise of the fair lessened until it could no longer be heard and the air was cooler.

He stopped beneath a large oak and drew her into his arms. “I couldn’t wait another minute to get you alone.”

She felt the same, but his mouth covered hers before she could speak. He took her lips in a soft and seductive kiss. She opened to him with a small whimper, and his tongue swept inside with a lazy, sensuous movement. She came alive then and her tongue entwined with his. Her fingers speared into his thick hair and urged him to deepen the kiss. With a low growl, he slid his hand around her neck, drawing her closer, and took her mouth with a savage intensity that left no doubt as to the fierceness of his desire. She tasted the sweet, exotic pineapple on his tongue. Molding her body against him, her senses throbbed with the strength and feel and scent of him.

At last he pulled back to cup her cheek. “I can’t stop thinking of last night,” he said.

“Nor can I.”

He groaned. “You have no idea of my wicked thoughts. I’ll never look at my desk the same way again.”