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Category: Teatime Tattler Page 29 of 152

Widow In Gentleman’s Apartment Scandal

The headline grabbed attention if Sam did say so himself. The editor of The Teatime Tattler held up the proof copy to the light, and grinned as he thought of all those papers sold. A respectable widow caught in a gentleman’s rooming house, in bed with a gentleman who was not even the room’s renter. Yes. An excellent story, and with credible witnesses!

He ignored a knock on the door. At this time of night, the newspaper office was shut. Indeed, he’d be off home to bed as soon as he gave the nod to the roll the presses and print tomorrow’s scandalbroth, so that it would be on people’s breakfast tables when they woke.

As he stood to go through to the printery to give the order, a couple of solid thuds made him pause. Then it flew open, and two men marched in. Sam blanched. He had already had a run-in with the Earl of Stanford last year, simply because the presses had printed a couple of caricatures the man objected to. Sam knew the man who snatched the newspaper from his hand, too. Lord Arthur Versey, world traveller, writer, and an even more dangerous man than Stanford.

Versey handed the newspaper to Stanford, who quickly scanned it. “It’s a pack of lies, Rex,” he said to Versey. “It says Regina was at Peach Tree Lane for an assignation with Deffew, and that Ashby tied the scoundrel up and abducted Regina.”

“You are going to have to rewrite that, Clemens,” Versey told Sam.

“I have witnesses to everything that’s in there,” Sam insisted. “And I have witnesses!”

“Any Deffews or Snowdens amongst your witnesses?” Standford demanded. “For they are trying to compromise a lady.”

Sam must have shown the truth in his expression, for Versey growled. “It was them.”

“Not just them,” Sam protested.

“And their friends,” Rex added.

Stanford obviously decided a gentler approach would be more useful. “Look, Clemens, you’re an honest man. Your newspaper told the truth about the persecution against my wife. Here’s your chance to be on the side of the angels again. Rex, tell him what really happened.”

***

One Perfect Dance

Regina Paddimore puts her dreams of love away with other girlish things when she weds her father’s friend to escape a vile suitor who tries to force a marriage. Sixteen years later, and two years a widow, she seeks a husband who might help her fulfil another dream—to have her own child.

Elijah Ashby escapes his abusive step-family as soon as he comes of age, off to see the world. Letters from his childhood friend Regina are all that connects him to England. Sixteen years later, now a famous travel writer, the news she is a widow brings him home.

Sparks fly between them when they meet again. Regina begins to hope for love as well as babies. Elijah will be happy just to have her at his side. However, Elijah’s stepbrothers are determined to do everything they can—lie, cheat, kidnap, even murder—so that one of them can marry Regina and take her wealth for themselves.

Love and friendship must conquer hatred and spite before Elijah and Regina can be together.

Buy now: https://books2read.com/1PerfectDance

***

Excerpt from One Perfect Dance

She unlocked the door, and Lady Kingsley swept inside. Wilson stammered apologies, but Regina waved him off. Her mother was a force of nature.

“Go back to your post,” she told him, and closed the door. If her mother was going to make a fuss, she didn’t want her servants and her son to hear.

She turned to ask her mother to explain her presence, but Lady Kingsley spoke first, to Elijah. “Do I need to ask your intentions towards my daughter, Mr. Ashby?”

“No, Mama,” Regina said. “I am a grown woman, and my actions are my own business.”

Lady Kingsley turned a chair around from the desk to face the bed. “You are right, Regina. I withdraw the question.”

Regina’s indignant response to the lecture she expected died on her tongue, and for a moment, she had nothing to replace it.

“My apologies for not rising, Lady Kingsley,” Elijah said, lifting himself off the pillows enough to bow his head, and then collapsing back with a grimace.

Regina’s mother frowned. “Are you unwell, Mr. Ashby?”

“Elijah was injured last night, fighting off some attackers,” Regina explained. She resumed her seat in the chair next to Elijah’s bed, so they were facing her mother together.

“Last night?” Mother asked. “Then you were with Regina, Mr. Ashby?” She turned a concerned gaze on Regina. “There is gossip about your activities yesterday evening, daughter. I want to know how I can help counter what is being said.”

“What is being said?” Elijah asked.

“That Regina had an assignation with Mr. David Deffew in an apartment in Peach Tree Lane. That you broke in, Mr. Ashby, tied Mr. Deffew up, and threatened to shoot Mr. Deffew if he followed. Mr. Deffew claims that Regina has promised to marry him and is threatening to have you arrested for abducting her.”

That perverted version of the evening’s events had Regina’s eyebrows twitching upward. Elijah, however, laughed. “Does Dilly truly think people will believe that?” he scoffed.

“I do not,” Mother insisted. “I know Regina despises the man, and I believe her to be right in his assessment of his character. But several of Richard Deffew’s friends claim to have seen her coming out of the building with you, Mr. Ashby. Richard Deffew is Mr. Deffew’s nephew.”

“Did those friends mention that Elijah’s servant was with us, and that he and Elijah were half-carrying Geoffrey? I was there because a messenger came to tell me that Geoffrey had been injured in an accident and needed me.”

“Ah!” Lady Kingsley commented. “Another abduction attempt.”

“It was,” Regina agreed. “An unsuccessful one, since Elijah saw me leaving here in a hackney with one of the young men that Geoffrey has been seeing. He came after me. We rescued Geoffrey, who had been drugged, and then Elijah and Fullaby fought off a group of the young men, who attacked us when we left the building.”

“Rex was there too,” Elijah disclosed.

Mother gave a single decisive nod. “Excellent. The pair of you have a witness that Society will accept as credible.”

As opposed to Fullaby and Geoffrey, though to be fair, Geoffrey was not in a condition to be much of a witness.

“Do you happen to know whether Deffew has an apartment in that building?” Elijah asked.

Mother shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. He and his nephew live with Matthew Deffew.”

Ash grinned, the flame of mischief in his eye. “Then Society might put its busy mind to wondering why he was in that building at all, let alone in the condition I saw him.”

Mother raised her eyebrows and inclined her head. “The condition in which you saw him?” she repeated, making a question of it.

Elijah’s grin broadened. “I should tell you that the room to which we were directed, the room in which Geoffrey was being held, was towards the far end of the passage from the stairwell. To reach it, one had to pass a door that had been damaged and loosely propped in the frame, so anyone who looked in that direction would see a man spreadeagled on the bed. He was unclothed and tied by his wrists and ankles to the bed posts.”

Impressive! His statement was entirely true but left out any mention of their altercation with Deffew.

“Unclothed!” Mother repeated. “I take it you recognized this man, Mr. Ashby.”

“I did,” Elijah told her gravely. “It was David Deffew. One wonders how he found himself in that state, in what is, after all, a building full of bachelor apartments. A foolish jape? An assignation gone wrong? Perhaps he was waiting for the owner of the apartment?”

“One prefers not to speculate,” Mother replied, dryly, “but it would be unkind not to permit other people to relish such an interesting insight into the character of the man who has been attempting to coerce my daughter into an unwanted marriage.”

“I thought you might see it that way,” Elijah said, and he and Mama exchanged a smile full of accord.

 

 

Death and Farce Among Society’s Leaders! Smelling Salts Necessary!

The scandalous passing of Sir Richard Carmichael rocked all of London several weeks ago. As we reported, whispers of his suicide in the desert sands reached the furthest corners of our nation, and inquiring minds made careful note of the interment of his empty coffin adjacent to the church’s perimeter wall, as if uncertain he should rest, even in spirit, within sanctified grounds. Yet, dear readers, the distress of his appalling death is not the only matter amiss in the Carmichael sphere.

Indeed, it is Sir Richard’s daughter, Miss Phoebe Carmichael, whose actions serve to shock the civilized world. Spied in solitary conversation with the newly-minted Viscount Trelawney, without benefit of chaperone and during her period of mourning, one might add, the heiress further breached Society’s moral underpinnings and standards by engaging in what might only be termed low-behavior. Readers interested in the slew of iniquitous rumors surrounding Miss C will take note of the following, although those with a faint heart are advised to exercise caution before apprehending the extent of the Carmichael’s villainy:

  1. Lord T, in complete disregard of convention, sent offerings of jellied plops colored in the shades of grief to Miss C during the week following her father’s funeral. His attempt to woo the wealthy lioness with Spring’s promise and Winter’s demise is said to have been successful, though I shall leave the reader to imagine the exact nature of how Miss C tumbled to his puffery; and
  2. Lord T thereafter instilled himself at Miss C’s home, disguised as a confectioner. Though the queen’s solicitor has been remarked to be singularly talented at the occupation of sweets, such pursuits remain beneath the ancient title passed to him, nor, indeed, that of any honorable gentleman, and
  3. It begins to appear Sir Richard might not be dead after all, but only the victim of foul play at the hands of the acclaimed society of Assyriologists, Veritas, though all readers of discernment will hold reasonable doubt as to the veracity of these accusations against the credible and enlightened gentlemen, and
  4. Lord T, rumored to be employed in secret with The Office, is embroiled in a scheme to aid Sir Richard in returning to Society, in the hopes he might thereafter wed the man’s daughter. Those who regularly follow this enlightened chronical are aware that the clandestine organization, without official name or fiat, serves the queen directly as her henchmen and act as guardians of the nation.

Are these rumors true? Is Lord T so much more than he appears? Will he gain the hand of the fair maiden? Has he yet ruined her in fact as well as practice? And if Sir Richard lives, will he, in turn, attempt to murder a viscount who led Miss C to such end? There is only one cure for the illicit goings-on: marriage, but will it prove sufficient?

The Teatime Tattler will leave readers to judge for themselves. Meanwhile, we shall keep a close eye upon the couple and await the reading of the banns.

About Primrose & Promises: When Sebastian Edgars, the newly minted Viscount Trelawney, meets the woman of his dreams, the ground shifts beneath his feet. Unfortunately, she has just buried her father and is required to mourn for a year. Though the rules say he cannot court her, he can’t abide her absence, and so he does the only thing he can think to do: he disguises himself as a servant in her home so they might come to know each other better.

Miss Phoebe Carmichael has decided she will never marry. Wealthy and impatient, when she meets Sebastian everything in her calms. He understands her grief and how spring’s promise will lead her back to life again.

As secret organizations and mad Assyriologists battle, the two fall in love. Will their love prove strong enough to overcome societal norms and those set against their union?

Available Now! Amazon

Excerpt: Reggie’s Miss Carmichael sat upon the edge of the brick flooring, a full plate pushed to her side. Unveiled, eyes closed, golden hair trailing behind her crape-draped form in a waterfall of silk, she leaned upon her black-gloved palms and tilted her face toward the sun. The careful knot into which she had earlier pinned her tresses had come undone. Her skirt caught under her leg so a tiny swathe of ankle lay revealed.

Something fierce and primal reached across the space to grab him by the throat as his previous sense of disquiet intensified. Stumbling mid-step, he caught his wobbling plate before it crashed to the stones.

The apricating lioness didn’t appear to notice his tottering footfall. He waited, straightening slowly. When she still didn’t move, he began to rotate, to slink back to the house and leave her to her privacy. Half-turned, he hesitated. If she opened her eyes and caught him vanishing behind a hedge, would she think he had spied upon her like some churl?

Probably. He raised his voice. “Pardon me. Miss Carmichael?”

Yellow eyes, golden eyes, flew open as she sprang straight. The color of those orbs traveled the distance and punched him in the gut. The earth shifted, threatening to throw him flat upon the earth.

It was a mystery how he didn’t fall to his knees.

About the Author: Judy Lynn Ichkhanian invites you to read her latest addition to the Wild Rose Press’s series, “Jelly Beans and Spring Things.” You’ll meet cross-over characters and further explore the world of the “Raised All Wrong” series. Victorian Romance has never been so fun! And if you sign up for the free newsletter at the author’s website, judylynnichkhanian.com , you’ll receive a free book in the RAW series that further explores the antics of Veritas and the suffering and romance of those in The Office who oppose them.

Scandalous Goings On, Shock Respectable Whitechapel Residents!

Dear Mr. S. Clemens,

I have been a long-time reader of your wonderful column, but I have seldom seen you mention the scandalous events that occur among the inhabitants of East London. It is therefore that I write to report about the shocking case of “The Undertaker’s Daughter.”

Reginald Harkness, Proprietor, Undertaker, and Director of Funeral Services of Harkness and Sons is known as a quiet, respectable, and sober man. A widower who has always been the soul of sympathy and discretion has been much admired for both his skill in undertaking and his fortitude in raising his headstrong daughter, Charlotte.

Residents of the respectable regions of Whitechapel have long imagined that Charlotte Harkness, a spinster already in her middle-twenties, would be a pawn between reputable undertakers, much like a princess forging an alliance between kingdoms. Any day, the vicar of St. Clementia’s was expected to read out the banns proclaiming a betrothal between Charlotte Harkness of Harkness and Sons and one of the many sons that haunt the establishments of Gideon and Danvers or Parsons and Parsons.

Imagine the congregation’s utter shock and titillation when it was discovered that Miss Harkness (who already causes tongues to wag with her insistence on helping her father with his accounts and her constant reading of embalming manuals) already had a suitor! Was it a respectable Whitechapel lad? No! It was one Dr. James Everly, a well-to-do physician studying at the Royal College of Surgeons, and a not-too-distant cousin of minor aristocracy! Not only does Dr. Everly have a pretty penny to his name, but he also comes from the perfumed streets of Windsor Gardens!

Whatever caused Charlotte Harkness to court so far above her station? You had best sit down, Mr. Clemens. Dr. Everly met Miss Harkness while investigating the mysterious death of his sister, Lavinia. Courting over corpses? Whilst in mourning? The shame!

Now, some say that this courtship is a clever ruse. Charlotte Harkness and Dr. Everly seem to think there is something odd about the manner of Lavinia Everly’s death. Neighbors and trusted members of the community have seen them traipsing all over London—without a chaperone!

Is Charlotte Harkness ruining herself while playing detective? Is young Dr. Everly sincere in his affections? Only time will tell. However, I suspect that all of this will come to a sticky end.

Anonymously Yours,

A Concerned Congregant of St. Clementia’s

About The Undertaker’s Daughter:  Charlotte Harkness thinks there is a quiet grace and dignity among the dead. Well, as long as they’re not feeling chatty.

Charlotte Harkness has (quite cheerfully) accepted that she’ll never find love. An undertaker’s daughter who reads embalming manuals and hears the dearly departed? It’s enough to make any Victorian patriarch despair.

When Lavinia Everly’s corpse arrives at Harkness and Sons, Charlotte is tormented by the girl’s final memories, her death at the hands of the mysterious “Jack.” Charlotte knows she must find the killer before madness consumes her.

Dr. James Everly shuns society’s rules to find out who killed his little sister.  When he joins forces with the undertaker’s daughter, he never expected his new ally to be so quick-witted and beautiful.

James and Charlotte agree to pose as a courting couple to continue their investigations. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan.

As danger mounts, Charlotte and James race to stop “Jack”  before he can strike again. Will they succeed, or become the next victims on his list?

Available Nowhttps://books2read.com/theundertakersdaughter

Excerpt:  “I do now. Intimately,” James chuckled bitterly.

“Some people,” she paused, knowing she had to tread carefully, “think that simply because they haven’t seen a thing, it can’t be so.”

“Exactly, but you have seen it!” He seized upon this point eagerly.

Not so much a matter of seeing, but of hearing, she thought woefully. “I’d like to tell you something. You must promise to hear me out. I’d like you to believe me, as I believe you.”

Puzzled, he nodded.

“I can help you. I may have the lead that you need, something even the police don’t know.”

“What? You do? How?” James leaned forward and grasped her hand, so grateful that he forgot all sense of propriety.

“The man who did this to your sister? His name is Jack, and Lavinia knew him well, well enough to have seen him before that night, anyway.”

“But… but this is incredible. My Lord, the name of the murderer! Oh, Miss Harkness, I cannot thank you enough. Tell me, how did you find this out?”

“I heard it, Dr. Everly. From beyond the grave. Lavinia’s spirit allowed me to hear her final moments.”

About M. Culler:  Author Bio:  Bestselling author M. Culler can’t stick to just one genre. She writes fantasy, mystery, and all flavors of romance. M.Culler lives in historic Chester County, Pennsylvania, where potentially haunted battlegrounds and 18th century buildings serve as neverending inspiration. M.Culler lives for her two brilliant children (mini-bookworms), her gorgeous husband, her endlessly entertaining students, and her wonderful community. If she’s not hunched over a laptop, you’ll find her baking up a storm in the kitchen, playing board games, or watching Brit Coms.  Soli Deo Gloria.

Find M. Culler On Line:   Website and Newsletter   Facebook    Reader’s Group: Book Dragons   Historical Heat Historical Romance Group

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Off the Market?

Is the wealthiest Lord of the Realm off the market?

Readers, we know you all watch this space for news of Lord C. Mayhap because he shuns so many of Society’s formal gatherings. Mayhap because his leonine good looks and heavy purse strings make him inordinately eligible.  Or mayhap due to his rakish reputation, habit of dabbling in the demi-monde and secret summer house parties.

As we’ve reported the past several years, Lord C hosts a secret week-long gathering after the Season’s end at his country estate. Sadly, we’ve once again come up short on details of the events of that week or even the guest list. Why so secretive, Lord C? What goes on out there in the country? Are the rumors of an orgy true? Did his friend Lord M and his mistress-wife attend?

Since then, Lord C has been seen frequenting the apothecary of a certain willowy widow, Lady E. They were also spotted in Bath, along with his friend Mr. O and Lady E’s untitled cousin, perusing apothecaries. But lo, before you ask if Lord C was courting the lovely lady, we have further news. They recently attended a soiree with fellow investors—separately. Given that Lord C could buy her an apothecary with a flick of his wrist, we think the magnificent male is still available. But be warned, ladies, ’tis well known that lords are welcome at his bedroom door as well.

ALTHEA’S AWAKENING, SCHOOL OF ENLIGHTENMENT BOOK 3

A widow with no knowledge of carnal desire, a rake bored with even the most hedonistic pleasures, and a game of truth or dare…

Lady Althea Egerton’s late husband secured her independence when he left her his apothecary. After two years of growth, she is ready to expand the business…if she only had capital. Finding a wealthy husband would solve that problem, but Althea refuses to subjugate herself to another man. She prefers an investor. Unfortunately, the only one she knows is the golden god of hedonism, and his help comes with a price.

Evan Gardner, Earl of Cheltenham, is bored. At twenty-eight, he has no equal in business, politics, or seduction. None of them hold his interest. Even his annual week-long orgy disguised as a house party leaves him cold. Yet the prudish widow, who wants only his money, intrigues him. As neither of them wants the trappings of marriage, a dalliance with the elegant widow might be just the challenge he’s been searching for.

Though Althea cannot resist the lure of ecstasy he offers as condition for his assistance, a continued liaison could risk her reputation and her store’s profits. To win this negotiation, Evan will have to ensure she can have both independence and pleasure.

Universal buy link:  books2read.com/althea

Note – Book 2, featuring Lord M and his mistress-wife, is also available on all major online retailers.

Author bio:  Maggie Sims began her love affair with romance before her teen years, drawn to the Regency by her mum’s British influence. In her twenties, she did her best to live the Carrie Bradshaw life in New York City, albeit with less expensive shoes and more books.

Despite reading hundreds of romance novels in her life, she was still blown away when she met the love of her life, an ex-Marine cinnamon roll with creative woodworking and culinary skills.

Having retired from corporate life, they live in Central Texas and are parents to a varying number of dogs and cats.  When not writing, Maggie is a wine enthusiast, a travel junkie, and a romance reading fiend.  She also sporadically crochets for KnotsofLove.org and does just enough exercise for that second glass of wine at night.

To find out more about Maggie’s latest reads, favorite wines, and travel destinations – and to get the free prequel novella featuring Lord S and Lady R – sign up for her newsletter at https://tinyurl.com/5enevd7w and follow her on social media.

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She is mine and I will take her back! Help me!

I write to you today, Tattler, in search of the woman I need to take back to my home. She has escaped me. Having written to that other nefarious newspaper that publishes adverts for those who wish to find spouses, she has gone to London and become the lover of a fellow who is not worthy of her.  

I appeal to you to help me find her. He has taken her away, supposedly to marry her.

But I will not care. Married or not. Ruined by him or not, I will have her back. She is mine. Has always been mine. I care not that she resembles my dead wife. She is lovelier than that one and my wife knew it. Knew I craved this one.

If you hear from her, Tattler, you must write to me. I track her now. Papers in London and Brighton papers say the couple has gone to Brighton. 

I will take her from him when they least expect me. I will show her that she is meant for me alone. No matter what she thinks.

MATRIMONY! #1. IF I LOVED YOU

Love does not advertise. Love counts no wrongs.

But when a young woman needs to escape, she’ll take an ad to find a man she can adore.

Verity Carr wants a new life in a new town far from her old home—and the vile threat to her body and soul. She comes from a fine family, has a good education and a bold ambition to become a portrait artist. She’s ready to live her life with a man who will value her. A husband she can can respect—and in time, hopefully love. Yet valiant though she is, she questions if she can escape her past and one who will not let her go.

Can a gentleman to whom great wrong was done, build a new life with a true wife and leave the past behind?

Miles St.John Armstrong never should have wed his first wife. He vows to select a new one with logic and careful investigation—via advertisement. The young lady he selects is Verity Carr who is no ordinary woman. She has charm, wit and a beauty that sears his soul. No wonder theirs is a relationship built quickly on admiration and trust. No wonder their marriage becomes one built of mutual mad passion. 

But devoted as they are, their past comes to call.

And it asks of them the ultimate question: Can their love withstand the tempest and survive the terror?

AUTHOR Cerise DeLand invites you to read her newest in a dramatically different romantic suspense inspired by the adverts to a spouse in Regency period!

Excerpt, IF I LOVED YOU. Copyright, 2023, Cerise DeLand.

Miles  had not known her for more than a few hours, but he’d seen her shock over such a sizable bequest. Certainly he could revel in the good fortune of anyone. But if she had suspicions about who had given her such a large inheritance and did not wish to discuss it with him, he could understand that, too. But her new-found gain, enough to support her at current standards in meager means for her lifetime, could lead her to break their agreement to marry. The possibility of losing her created an ache in his heart. A place he’d never expected to feel anything at all ever again. 

As they entered the Grosvenor Gate and passed the park wall, she strode more slowly and breathed more deeply. They took a turn on the path south and one glance at her told him she was more at ease.

“I hate to spoil your enjoyment,” he said, “but I think we should not walk here much longer. The shadows grow deeper.”

“You are right, of course.” She had her hands in her coat pockets as she stopped and spun toward him. “You have been very good to me today.”

He raised a hand, his smile wry. “No more gratitude, please. I am quite thanked.”

She stopped, faced him and tipped her head, suddenly the coquette, though to him, she did not seem to have planned the spontaneity of such an attitude. She was without guile—and he valued that unexpected characteristic more than he could ever have imagined.

“You are a darling man,” she said with an honesty that emphasized her simplicity and lack of artifice.

“You are kind to think so.” He remembered a few instances when the moniker he deserved was the opposite. Savage. Insane. Gullible. All came to mind in a rush of bile. 

She put her hands to his and held tightly. “Do you still want to marry a woman you barely know?”

“I’d like to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

She shook her head as if the whole idea were impossible. “Why? Why?”

“I want a wife. A friend. I am lonely. You seem a gentle soul. I think we would do well together.”

“I cannot imagine that you have not met a thousand young ladies you know better than me who would not make you a friend and wife because they do know you better.”

But they knew his past, too. His wife. “I would never find happiness with any I’ve met. They see me as the mill owner, a cit with a new title, an upstart viscount, too rich for his title. They also see me as a widower.” Not knowing I am more aggrieved than grieving. 

She stood immobile, only her large eyes searching his for what he would not reveal. “Did you love her?”

“When I married her, yes.”

“And do you miss her?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I see. Then your loneliness comes not from her lack.”

“No. It does not.”

She gulped. “Do you want children?”

He blinked and peered up at the deep blue clouds scudding across a darker moonlit sky. “I have not wished for that in many years. But now,” he said as he met her frank gaze, “I believe I would.”

She smiled as if he’d just given her the keys to the kingdom. “I would, too.”

He stepped closer to her, dropped her hands and cupped her shoulders. Her luscious curves fit into the planes of his suddenly very needy self. “Might we proceed to getting them?”

She arched her neck and let her eyes dance into his. “First we must be wed.”

“Will day after tomorrow do?”

“Quite well,” she said on a delighted laugh. “And then we must become better friends.”

He sent his fingers up into the heavy coil of hair at her nape. Her skin was as soft as charmeuse and her hair smelled of lavender. She’d been in his arms often today and her need had been great. Now, he would test to see if she might come for a new and startling reason. Might she come because she could want him? Want him as a man? As her lover?

She pulled back a little, a question on her plump lips. “Friends kiss.”

“They do,” he said with a smile that grew from a friend’s to a ravenous man’s. “Shall we?”

She studied his mouth and swallowed hard. “Oh, yes. From the moment I heard your voice on the Great North Road, I have wanted to know how you taste.”

“Well, then,” he said as he loomed over her lips, “we must not delay.”

 She circled her arms around his shoulders and pushed up on her toes. “Please don’t.”

The temptation to take her with all the ardor he bore her raged through him. He could not devour her like a satyr. He was a man who had foresworn passion and love. A man of reason and temperance. But then…

She put her lips to his, a brush of warm temptation. The sensation of her desire met the one of his quest as if two stars collided in the dark of night. Blinded by it, he groaned and caught her up. Her mouth was lush, and as his tongue invaded, he knew how hot her body was. How sweet. He swept the inside of her mouth and felt her complete surrender. This was what he’d craved. A woman who might love him.

He pulled away, breathless, cupping her cheek. “Darling, we must stop.”

In the shadows of the soft spring evening, she tipped her head and smiled at him. “You’ll kiss me again?”

“As often as you wish.”

There again was that sweet woman who drew him to her with the artless look of enchantment. “Must I tell you each time?”

“No,” he said on a laugh and hugged her close, then set her from him. “Only look at me like that, my darling, and I am yours.”

“As I am forever yours,” she said and put her arm in his to turn and walk home. 

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