Page 24 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

“We do.” He straightened his white neckcloth, giving her a conspiratorial grin. “But there happens to be a particularly vile reporter on your doorstep whom I will probably end up killing one day. You, my dear, are not about to be a baby lamb for the likes of him.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t even thought to read the morning papers. “Is the news very ugly?” she asked in hesitation.

His hard face softened slightly. “Brutal.”

“Then I refuse to do this.”

He motioned with his free hand to the liveried footman waiting at the curb. His other hand firmly prevented her from pulling away. “Remount, Jane.”

“Re—what?” she said in exasperation, then, “Unhand me, Sedgecroft, or I shall . . . hit you.”

“I’m doing this for your own good,” he said, escorting her past the growing crowd of curious onlookers who had hoped to catch a glimpse of the jilted bride and her infamous escort.

She swatted at his shoulder, whispering, “Everyone is staring at us.”

“Then stop resisting me,” he whispered back with a lazy smile.

“Then let me go.”

“But, my little disgraced angel, what if you should fall?”

“Fall?”

“Into the street amid all those nasty cow droppings and custards.”

“I suppose that’s a risk I shall have to take.”

“Not in my presence. I would never allow a woman I escort to come to harm.”

“Would you allow her to harm you?”

His eyes twinkled with enjoyment. “It depends. What did you have in mind?”

“Presumably not what you’re thinking.”

He gave a low laugh and pulled her closer to him to murmur, “Smile at our audience, Jane. Remember that I have replaced Nigel in your heart. It won’t do for us to be quarreling in the street the first day we are seen together.”

Despite the fact that she hadn’t agreed to any of this, Jane could not help responding to his confidence. He sounded as if he did this sort of thing every day. He made it sound like a marvelous adventure.

“I cannot believe my mother is letting you take me off without a chaperone,” she grumbled.

“We have a chaperone.” He bore her toward the elegant black carriage that had pulled up behind them, looking pleased that she obeyed him. “Your brother is waiting for us in there.”

“Simon . . . a party to . . .”

He leaned into her, the playful mockery in his eyes darkening with sultry promise. She stared at his face, mesmerized, a blush burning its way up the back of her nape, her body softening in sinful anticipation.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Don’t look now, darling, but that press reporter is coming around the corner.”

“May I faint?”

“After I get you into the coach.” He brought his head to hers, speaking in a soothing voice that reminded Jane he was no stranger to scandal himself. “Ah, good, he’s gone the other way. Let’s just wait a moment to be sure.”

His breath teased the edge of her jaw, warm, a taunt to her senses. His broad shoulders blocked her from view. In a heartbeat she was consumed in heat, in confusion, in the heady presence of him. His left arm lifted as if to protect her. His mouth grazed her skin. It was a brief contact, a casual brush of his lips against the sensitive curve of her cheekbone. One watching may not have been sure whether he had merely whispered in her ear. But Jane felt the sensual power he wielded in every erratic beat of her heart.

Her body temperature rose as she stood there, tingling in sheer pleasure, in anticipation. She half expected him to kiss her again, right there in the street.