Page 53 of One Night with an Earl

She faced him fully now. “No matter how hard I try, I cannot stop thinking of you.”

He inhaled between parted lips, his gaze turning hot and ravenous at the same time. “I told you the same.”

“I’m not certain what to do about my thoughts.”

“I know. I want to kiss you, Ana. Tell me you want me to.” His voice was gruff.

She couldn’t protest, couldn’t move. She licked her suddenly dry lips and his heated gaze lowered to her mouth.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She could blame it on the arak, but the truth was more damning.

“Yes,” she said. “I’d like that very much.”

…

A thrill of masculine satisfaction coursed through Oliver at Ana’s words.

I’d like that very much.

He’d thought of little else since her arrival at Rosedown. Oh, he’d done his best to stay away from Ana and not attract unwanted attention. But at every glance across the dining room table, desire simmered through his veins.

She was right about her accommodations. He had placed her nearby. If he was to hold a house party, even a short one thrust upon him by his grandmother, then he would take every advantage to get to know her better. Glancing down at Ana, he knew he’d made the right decision.

She met him halfway. He was no longer surprised by the fierce desire that raged through him at the mere touch of their lips. Here was a woman who would never feign innocence, even when she had gifted him with her innocence. She kissed him back with equal abandon.

He would go entirely wild if he did not have her here and now. Before he knew what he’d done, his fingers had loosened the fastenings of her gown and exposed the tops of her magnificent breasts above her corset. She sighed, a deep-seated sound that spoke of longing and wanting, and pulled his head down. The blood rushed through his veins at her eagerness. He lowered his head to kiss the soft flesh, and her fingers dug into his hair, her nails scraping his scalp and igniting his lust.

“Ana,” he said, his voice hoarse as he cherished her soft skin.

“Miss Gardner!”

“By God, not again!” Oliver ground out.

He helped her arrange her clothing just as Miss White, the young maid who’d shown Ana her rooms earlier, came rushing into the gardens.

“What is it?” Ana asked.

“It’s Lady Penelope. She’s fallen ill.”

Chapter Twenty

Ana’s heart thumped madly as she rushed into the house and sprinted up the winding staircase. The door to Penelope’s room was cracked open an inch, and Ana threw it wide open to find Penelope sobbing on her bed.

Lady Malvern was pacing the room. As soon as she saw Ana, her face screwed into a scowl. “Where have you been?”

“Out for a bit of fresh air.”

Her ladyship motioned to her daughter. “I stopped by after meeting with the women in the parlor to speak with Penelope about tomorrow. I found her like this. She is asking for you. See that she calms herself.”

Ana waited until Lady Malvern departed and shut the door behind her before approaching Penelope to sit by her side on the bed. The girl’s complexion was ashen, and tears streaked down her cheeks. Her white dress adorned with lace made her appear even paler.

Ana touched her arm. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Wordlessly, Penelope reached beneath her pillow to pull out a piece of foolscap. Ana recognized the letter she had intercepted in the morning post. “I found this in your room. I wasn’t snooping but was looking for paper to write Timothy.”

Ana had scolded Penelope for continuing to write her soldier in the past. If Ana hadn’t found this letter, who would have? And was Penelope upset because she thought Ana had hidden the letter from her? “Penelope, I meant to tell you, but I forgot about—”