James Margrave, Earl of Seaton, must have an heir to keep his estate from falling into the hands of his cousin, which means he has to marry. Lady Jocelyn, who still beguiles him, would be perfect if only he could forget old slights. Instead, James asks Jocelyn to help him find a suitable wife, a task she agrees to perform, hoping to redeem herself in his eyes.
When a series of attacks put James’s life in danger, an immediate marriage becomes critical. Jocelyn is willing and available. But can he trust a woman who once broke his heart and is it fair to wed her when she might become the next victim?
He didn’t kiss her. Not at first. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, staring into her eyes as if he could discover all her secrets there. His palm opened and moved down to the back of her neck, raising goose bumps. When he traced the rise of her breasts above her neckline with his forefinger—his gaze never leaving hers—she tingled all the way to her toes.
Parting her lips slightly, she inched so close she imagined his mouth on hers, even though they weren’t touching. When his lips did settle over hers, she closed her eyes and pressed her body against his. The hard ridge of his erection nudged her core, bringing a delicious ache that swept over her until she was a maelstrom of need. She wanted his lips on her face, her neck, her breasts. She wanted to feel his skin beneath her palms, not the fabric of his coat.
But they were in a formal receiving room with the door open, fully clothed, close to a night footman stationed in the hall.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. They jumped apart at the same time, and Jocelyn stifled nervous laughter behind her palm.
James grinned. “I won’t say I’m sorry. I thoroughly enjoyed that kiss and look forward to more.” His eyes danced with mischief. “But not in such a public place.”
“At least Roberts wasn’t sitting in the corner with her embroidery.”
He chuckled, enfolded her once again in his arms, and rested his chin on the top of her head, as if reluctant to let her go. “I am happy we aren’t waiting until summer to be wed. I might try to persuade you to anticipate the wedding night otherwise.”
She laughed against his shoulder, still clinging to him. His observation did not make her blush. She was beyond maidenly embarrassment. She wanted him. Her body was desperate for him. When had she become so wanton?
Reluctantly, she shifted back to gaze at his face, not wanting to miss a single expression. “Perhaps you should consider a special license.”
He tilted his head in amusement. “Your mother will be disappointed because we are not going to have a big London wedding. She would be devastated if our wedding was a simple service in front of our vicar. As it is, the chapel at the castle is quite a comedown from St. George’s.”
“You’re right. I suppose I shall have to tamp down my ardor and comport myself with patience and dignity.”
Oh, if only she could.
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