Page 35 of What Lies Beneath

The earl moved away at once, putting distance between them and returning to his position by the fire. He regarded her warily, a look of bewildered interest in his eyes, as if he could not quite fathom how such a strange creature had come to be sitting in his study.

Regina cleared her throat, increasingly ill at ease but determined to get the ordeal over with. If he was going to make her feel small and pathetic for having had the audacity to imagine she might be friends with the Earl of Ashburton, she would rather he do it quickly and cleanly so she could scurry back to her room like the inconsequential governess she was.

“Well, my lord. You have admitted to avoiding me this past week. Might you do me the courtesy of explaining? Though I suspect I can guess the reason,” she murmured dryly, finding her lip curling a little and relieved that her voice did not tremble.

Instead of answering and putting her out of her misery, the earl’s gaze sharpened. “You can?”

Regina let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, come, my lord. It was outrageous of you to invite me here to share a drink and an evening of conversation. That neither I nor the novelty of the situation entertained you as fully as you’d hoped is hardly a difficult observation to make.”

“Ah,” he said, the soft exhalation tinged with amusement. “That is your new accusation? I wondered what I would be guilty of this time.”

Regina bristled at his mocking tone and sat a degree straighter. “You deny it?”

“I do,” he said, holding her gaze as he lifted his glass of brandy to his lips.

Though she could not say why, watching his mouth touch the glass and the strong column of his throat working as he swallowed made her skin prickle with awareness and she felt hot all over. Unable to tear her gaze away from his mouth, she saw as much as heard what he said next.

“I’m afraid my sin is far more depraved and far more deserving of your anger and scorn than you have imagined.”

His voice was low, and the word sin seemed to linger in the air. It seemed to caress her skin, inviting her to discover just how it felt to indulge in it fully.

Regina, already sitting ramrod straight, put up her chin. “I cannot think what you mean,” she said, dismayed that her voice was no longer firm, but strangely breathless.

“No, I don’t imagine you can.” His rueful tone only made her crosser still, and she glared at him.

“Then I beg you will explain yourself and stop speaking in riddles, for it is terribly vexing,” she snapped.

Ashburton nodded and set his glass on the mantelpiece before turning to face her. “Very well, Mrs Harris. You asked for the truth, and so I shall provide it. The reason I have been avoiding you is that I feared what might happen if I allowed us to be alone together again.”

Regina stared at him, wondering if she had somehow missed the pertinent part of that explanation, for she was still no clearer what the problem was.

“What might happen?” she repeated in confusion. “Whatever do you mean? What might happen?”

This time it was a genuine question and the earl’s gaze never faltered as he replied, staring at her as each word slid beneath her skin.

“I might do something I ought not,” he replied softly. “I might… move closer,” he said, putting action to the words until he was stood directly before her.

“O-Oh?” Regina stammered, for she could not think of anything sensible to say and yet she felt she ought to say something.

He nodded, his expression grave. “I might get to my knees before you,” he added, doing just that as Regina’s breath snagged in her throat. “I might try to get closer still.”

Regina gasped as his hands clamped down on the arms of the chair and he leaned in. Not knowing what else to do, she leaned back as he leaned forward, finding herself pressed firmly against the cushions.

“This is why I stayed away, Mrs Harris,” he said softly, his face so close to hers his breath fluttered against her skin, the faint aroma of the brandy he had drunk as intoxicating to her as if she had herself downed the entire glass in one go.

What was happening, Regina wondered, dazed and more confused than she had ever been in her life before. Was the exquisite Earl of Ashburton—the most elusive man on the marriage mart—telling her he desired her? Surely not. Yet she looked into his eyes, those silver-blue eyes that were usually full of reserve, so cool with restraint, and saw a fire blazing there. Her breath caught as she comprehended he was not mocking her, not trying to humiliate her, but in deadly earnest.

Suddenly, his expression changed, a mixture of shock and mortification settling upon his handsome face. “Forgive me,” he said, the contrition in his voice laced with self-disgust. “I promised myself I would behave, but it seems even that promise—”

He moved away as he spoke and Regina, knowing only that no one had ever wanted her before and that this man of all men was the embodiment of a dream she had not even permitted herself to acknowledge, reacted without thinking.

She reached for him, her hands grasping hold of the lapels of his immaculately tailored coat and yanking him back with considerable force. She did not doubt she had caught him off guard, for the flash of surprise in his eyes was priceless, and she might have laughed if she were not consumed with the desire to press her mouth upon his. So she did.

For a full minute, his wits were scattered with such vigour, Pip did not know what was happening. He was so shocked by the prim Mrs Harris making such a bold move that his brain melted. It was the only explanation for the way his mind had become entirely blank. Well, that and the electric charge that seemed to light up his entire body the moment their lips touched. He had sensed it when their fingertips had brushed and told himself he’d imagined it even as his longing to touch her grew increasingly unwieldy with every moment.

He had meant to behave himself. When he had entered his study, it was with the sincere desire to explain his predicament and seek her help in finding a solution. It was all the fault of those damn buttons, he decided wildly. The moment he had seen her elegant fingers toying with that prim line of buttoned up buttons, everything had gone to hell. It was more provocation than he was capable of withstanding. Honestly, what was she thinking wearing that… that dreadfully dull gown with its inciting line of silk-covered fastenings when his control was hanging by a thread?

It would appear that she wasn’t thinking any more clearly than he was, however, as her inexpert and clumsy kisses became increasingly bold. Well, thinking was overrated, and they were both going to hell, he decided. He may as well enjoy it.