Page 30 of How to Tempt an Earl

He continued to sit ramrod straight.

She ran her finger along his jawline, attempting to assess his unreadable profile.

He turned then. His intense gaze captured her own, and she gasped and nearly dropped the shears. She realized her mistake.

He wasn’t unaffected.

There was a wild look in his dark eyes, a smoldering promise of more to come. His chest expanded and his fingers tightened on the arm rests of the chair. The tensing of his powerful body was not from cold disinterest but from measured restraint. He looked like a predator ready to pounce…and she was his prey.

Oh my.

Rather than experience fear, a thrill passed down her spine that she had so affected him.

Don’t play with fire, Grace!

She quickly stepped back and set the shears on the chest of drawers. “I’m finished.”

He stood and turned around slowly. The cut emphasized the chiseled planes of his face and made him appear even more attractive. How was that possible?

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his shorn locks. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Was he referring to the act of cutting his hair or the closeness that was required?

She raised her chin and tried to calm her racing heart. “It was a necessary task, but not one I’d like to repeat.”

A flash of emotion swiftly crossed his face…admiration…challenge? She wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that she had to flee this room before she succumbed to wickedness. “The hour is late, I must leave.”

“I’ll see you home.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“It’s not a request.”

…

Ian settled across from Grace on the padded bench of his carriage. She stared out the window, her posture stiff as she nibbled on her lower lip. Even though she remained silent and kept her gaze averted, he sensed her disquiet. He purposely moved forward on the bench. She stole a wary glance at him, then quickly looked away again.

He watched her, leisurely studying her profile. There was both delicacy and strength in her lovely features. Her temptingly curved mouth spoke of a man’s fantasies. Her blue eyes were tilted at the corners and framed by thick lashes. Curly tendrils of dark hair had escaped the heavy mass at her nape and framed her face.

His heart thundered with a fierce longing he was powerless to resist. Even though he’d been resolved to keep his distance, he’d found himself devising an excuse to keep her close. He’d been the one to insist upon her cutting his hair. He’d thought by having her touch him, without him touching her in return, it might awaken her senses.

What a fool he’d been.

Her simple touch had tested him beyond measure. It had been erotic torture to sit still and not look at her as she’d worked. The air in the room had turned thick with barely suppressed desire.

Even now, the cool evening air did little to quench his need. His body was tense, his muscles tight at the thought of pushing her down on the bench seat and kissing her senseless.

He continued to study her instead.

She’d raised the carriage shade another inch and continued to look into the night. Clearly, the discomfort of looking at him outweighed her fear of being recognized by a late-night passerby.

“Rumor has it your father wants you wed to Viscount Newton’s youngest son.”

She turned from the window to fully face him, surprise reflected in her eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

“Knowledge is as important as money in my business. Are you going to marry him?”

She smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her skirts. “My father would be most pleased.”