Page 83 of One Night with an Earl

As he lit candles, she took in her surroundings. Dark, mahogany furnishings, a thick Aubusson carpet, and a large fireplace proclaimed it a masculine domain.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Are you?”

“Yes. Perhaps wine will help.” As he went to a sideboard to pour two glasses, she removed her cloak and draped it over a leather armchair.

He turned, two goblets in hand, then froze. “Sweet Lord.”

…

Lady Scarlet had returned for the night.

Ana had removed her cloak to reveal the red gown she’d worn the first time he’d set eyes on her at the Silver Chalice.

Vivid memories returned in a rush as he greedily devoured the image before him. Her curves were displayed in delicious detail…luscious breasts, slender waist, long legs encased in satin. Even her dark, ebony curls were piled upon her head in a similar style.

“Do you approve?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper.

“I like it very much. Very much, indeed.”

He handed her the wine, a rich red, then drank deeply from his goblet. He would need every ounce of control when he touched her.

A ripple of silk sounded as she came close. He watched, fascinated, as she drank, her full lips touching the rim of the glass, her slender throat contracting as she swallowed.

“Delicious,” she said.

Delectable, his mind answered. Like the finest wine, she was meant to be savored and cherished above all others.

He took the crystal from her and set it aside. Then she was in his arms, his head dipping to capture her lips in a kiss. Lust kicked in his gut, even more ferociously than he’d expected.

She was just as eager, and her fingers traced up his arms to bury in his hair. Her nails scratched his scalp.

His pulse surged in his veins. Her eager response fueled his desire.

For a man who prided himself on control, in and out of the bedroom, his reaction was swift and violent.

He explored the recesses of her mouth as his hands traveled down her spine to clutch the swell of her hips. A low growl escaped him. He had to gain some semblance of control before he tossed her on the bed and ravaged her.

Focus. He pictured his ledgers, the dozens and dozens of tiny numbers in each column. The open atlases on his study table. Even the waiting correspondence that needed to be addressed in the corner of his desk.

Anything.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he looked into her eyes. “Ana,” he simply said.

She kissed the divot in his chin, then reached up and loosened his neckcloth. “You never told me why you were with those men at the Silver Chalice that night.” Slowly, she pulled the linen free, then let it slip from her fingers to the floor.

“I was with my brother’s friends to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Lord Elton. An obligation that I resented at first, but in hindsight, I don’t regret at all.”

“Why?”

“Because it led me to you.”

She turned in his arms. “Help me with my buttons.”

As each crimson button slipped free, a tantalizing expanse of smooth skin was revealed to his hungry gaze.

“Why were you there?” he asked. “You never told me.”