Page 22 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Her gaze flickered about the room, and with a start, he realized she remained as unimpressed by their opulent surroundings as she had been upon seeing the estate. “All I’m saying is, let’s talk this over before we do anything that cannot be undone.”

She snorted inelegantly, just as any man might.

Stratford went to the mirror. As usual, he looked as well presented as ever with Win’s help, but he fussed before the mirror a while longer, keeping an eye on what the valet was doing behind his back. Tidying up but also peeking out at the front drive.

No matter what Stratford had assumed, a sliver of doubt remained. Was he truly certain that Winston was a woman? He glanced down at his groin and thought about peeling Winston out of those clothes, sitting her on his lap and…

Well, his cock thought that an excellent idea.

He groaned.

He glanced at Win again. She needed his protection and his help to keep her secret. The only way he could keep Win safe was to make sure she had no opportunity to stumble right into a disaster. Who knows what might happen then?

They would end up married, that’s what.

Win was still fussing with taking his clothes into the dressing closet, uncaring of the oncoming disaster about to befall them both. It was the perfect time to let her slip away on her own, and yet he followed her to the closet doorway instead, worried that she might leave.

She was not fussing with his clothes but was near her makeshift bed, fiddling with something he could not see beneath it. “Winston,” he whispered.

She jumped guiltily and did not look up immediately as she answered. “Yes, my lord?”

In the shadows and close confines of the dressing closet, he cursed the risk he was going to take with a bachelorhood he had always been committed to. “Win?”

She looked at him at last. “Yes?”

Stratford reached out, caught her by her upper arm, and drew her to her feet. He caught her chin in his hand, feeling the softness of her skin, the telltale lack of whiskers under his fingertips.

Win was a woman.

There was no escaping the truth.

This remarkable woman played the part of a man well, but now he knew the truth, he could not pretend. A feeling he’d rarely experienced before except around his closest family grew stronger. Protectiveness and a desire to keep her near at any cost.

Before he thought better of it, he leaned down and stole a kiss from her lips for one final confirmation.

Win froze and did not kiss him back. But she did not move or attempt to strike him for his impertinence, either.

Stratford stole another kiss, teasing her lips apart with the gentle and persistent swipe of his tongue until he got a reaction.

A shocked gasp spilled from her lips, and he took complete advantage. He kissed her properly—and became stiff as an iron spike.

He was definitely kissing a woman, and one he liked very much.

He sealed their lips together and held her close, allowing desire to overset good sense.

As her hands landed on his chest, he fully expected to be shoved away. But Winston seemed uncertain of what to do or how to stop him kissing her. He, however, had no such trouble knowing what to do. He cradled her head between his hands and softened his kisses until their lips were inches away. “You’re definitely a woman I want to know everything about,” he whispered.

But there was no time for any further discussion or indulgence. He was late, and he had to ensure Win remained until he could return to continue with his pleasant interrogation.

He released her and stepped back. Win swayed there, a look of utter bewilderment on her face. Stratford didn’t dare relish the stunned expression for too long. He turned on his heel, strode away to rummage in a desk drawer, and palmed a key before turning back to her, determined to do no more wrong.

Then he left, locking her inside his chambers so she couldn’t run away while he was elsewhere.

CHAPTER 8

Winston paced and raged in silence as evening slowly fell over Ravenswood palace, her leather shoes making little noise upon the luxurious carpeted rugs. She’d been locked inside Lord Stratford’s chambers all afternoon, with nothing to eat or drink but gin from her own silver flask. The manipulative bastard had kissed her, smiled about it, and then locked the door to his bedchamber as he’d waltzed out the door, halting her plan to make a discreet and speedy exit from the estate before he came back.

It unnerved her that he was so calm after discovering her true gender. The kiss had seemed unplanned but was so brazenly done, she could still feel the effects of the first kiss of her life even now. She wanted to loathe him for it, and yet…it hadn’t been unpleasant. Until now, she’d always held herself apart from the base impulses of her gender and the men she tried to emulate, and had disdained the gullible women who fell for their lures and false flattery.