Page 4 of One Night with an Earl

All the while, the lady in red glided toward the back of the room, toward him. Oliver willed it with all his might. Maybe it was the whisky, but he was agreeable, no matter what she’d offered. God, what was wrong with him?

Moore stumbled to his feet, seeming not to care that his chair crashed to the floor. Alcohol wafted from his pores. Oliver thought Moore intended to challenge his friends, but instead, he grasped the woman’s arm as she moved past him.

“Just what I’ve been waiting for. We’re going to have a grand time together,” Moore said.

She was closer now. Behind the mask, the woman’s eyes widened, and the hazel color fascinated Oliver. She didn’t want Moore. It was clear in the stiffening of her spine, the tension in her shoulders, the parting of her lips. Oliver knew even before she attempted to tug her arm free to speak.

“Not this evening, my lord,” she said.

“Why not?”

Like a dog with a tasty bone, Moore was as relentless as he was intoxicated. His fingers tightened on the woman’s arm, enough to cause a slight gasp of pain from her, and that was all it took for Oliver to intervene. He would never force a woman, and he’d be damned if he would allow another to do so.

He stood and strode to Moore. “She’s mine for the evening.”

Moore glowered. “All the demimondes are free for the taking at the Silver Chalice. Go back to your corner, my lord.”

Oliver’s fist clenched at his side, and he wanted nothing more than to break Moore’s bulbous nose. Challenge the brute in a ring.

He could do none of those things here, but he refused to let her go to the pompous pig. He tried another way, one in which a bull-headed man like Moore would consider. “She was sent to me by Madame Crescent herself. Why do you think I’ve been waiting?”

“He’s right, my lord,” she spoke up.

Moore ignored her and focused on Oliver. “Oh? I didn’t know you frequented this place or any place where a man could have fun.”

Oliver narrowed his gaze. “Don’t be an idiot. If you want to anger the Madame, then by all means do so, but you’d have to find another bawdy house in the future, and we all know the Silver Chalice offers the best.”

Oliver reached for the lady, and this time, Moore released his grasp. Oliver experienced a searing satisfaction as she unhesitatingly slipped her hand in his. Her perfume, a delicate lavender, wafted to him, and his eyes took in the flawless curve of her cheek.

“Come with me.” He led her straight to the door.

Chapter Two

Ana’s heart beat wildly in her chest as the handsome stranger led her out the door. Lord Moore’s grip had been cruel, his demeanor threatening, and her heart beat in fear, not anticipation. She had been about to release an unladylike curse and follow with a swift kick to his groin when the stranger intervened. Moore was not the man she’d wanted.

But this man was different.

Dark-haired and dark-eyed, he was even taller than he’d appeared across the room. She was not a small woman, but her head barely reached his chin. His large hand swallowed her gloved one, and her skin tingled in awareness beneath the silk.

The rich tumble of his voice matched the intensity of his gaze. “You should not have entered a wolf’s den without first knowing how to escape.”

“I would have managed fine on my own.”

He had yet to smile.

Heart thumping, she took in the rest of him as they walked. Strong jaw. Rugged profile. Broad chest. She could almost feel the power that coiled within him as he moved. She was reminded of her lack of experience, and her nerves tensed, different ones this time.

The brothel was a maze of corridors and doors. Behind a door, there was a light, feminine laugh, a smack of flesh, then a masculine moan.

Sweet Lord.

She was at the Silver Chalice by her own design. She wouldn’t lose her nerve now. Did she have the courage to lead him to the private room Madame Crescent had reserved for her for the evening?

He stopped in the middle of the corridor. Candlelight from a sconce cast shadows on the flocked papered walls. Releasing her hand, he let out a breath and watched her. His eyes weren’t black, but a color that reminded her of the rich chocolate that she preferred to drink each morning. Below his full lips, her gaze was drawn to the divot in his chin. Her fingers itched to reach out and trace the mark, to kiss it.

From the way he watched her, she was certain he felt the same way, felt the sizzle between them, and that he was attracted to her. She drew a deep breath and summoned her courage.

“You should go now.”