Page 28 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Erroll feared his near painful erection would cripple him. Since leaving the parlor, he’d barely regained control. Then the vixen had pressed that lovely breast against his chest. She’d already witnessed how quickly the blood could rush to his cock—and his inability to think. She had to know how badly he wanted her. Her reluctant acquiescence in the small confines of their hiding place hadn’t fooled him into thinking she would spread her legs so easily, however. She would have had to be made of stone not to be aroused when jammed together with him. But after making it clear she had no intention of marrying him, he hadn’t expected an invitation to walk with her in the gardens. He strolled forward, willing his lust into submission with the promise of imminent satiation.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Never better,” he replied.

“Is your leg well? You seem to be limping.”

It wasn’t his leg that caused the limp.

“I am sorry I shot you.”

At least this time she sounded half remorseful. “It is a mere flesh wound.”

“Your limp seems to be worsening,” she said.

He knew how to remedy that and once they reached the shadows—Erroll sensed someone behind them.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end even as a female silky voice at his back said, “A beautiful night for a walk, don’t you agree, my lord?”

He halted. One surprise a night was enough. He looked down at Miss Crenshaw. “We should have slaked our lust the instant the other couple left the parlor.”

Her eyes widened and he nearly laughed. Perhaps he’d been too direct. With a sigh, Erroll turned her toward Lady Diana Barrett. Light poured through the open ballroom doors and illuminated her tall, lithe figure standing in the grass a few feet from the stairs. Lady Barrett was stunning—or so he’d thought until two weeks ago when he ended their affair. Her allure evaporated the instant he realized she was angling for a husband and had him in her determined sights. What was she up to now? She had to know it was bad manners to accost them as they were headed for the gardens.

“Good evening, Diana,” he said.

“My lord,” she said, then to Miss Crenshaw, “Miss Crenshaw.”

“Lady Barrett,” Miss Crenshaw replied.

Diana glided forward. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Miss Crenshaw’s fingers tightened around his arm as Diana stopped a few feet in front of them.

“I gather you read the announcement?” Erroll said to Diana.

“Is it in the newspapers?” she said with an innocence that didn’t fool him. “I suppose it is,” she went on, “but news that London’s most eligible bachelor is off the marriage mart is the talk of the town.”

“I believe Lord Gregory has that honor, not I.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “Every mamma in England hopes you will marry her daughter. But it seems those hopes are dashed.”

Erroll wasn’t lost to the innuendo in the words those hopes. So Diana was letting him know that she was available for a liaison, despite his imminent nuptials. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

“What a shame,” Miss Crenshaw said.

“A shame?” Diana repeated.

“A shame that so many mammas must now look elsewhere to marry off their simpering daughters.”

Erroll looked down at Miss Crenshaw in surprise. Surely his prospective bride wasn’t jealous?

“I doubt those mammas would appreciate their daughters being referred to as simpering,” Diana said.

Erroll swung his gaze onto her. “I feel certain no one will tell them.”

Her face reddened.

“Be that as it may,” Miss Crenshaw interjected, “any hopes that have been dashed as a result of Lord Rushton’s betrothal will stay dashed.”