The Naked Viscount by Sally MacKenzie

Author:Sally MacKenzie
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2010-12-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

“Lord Motton is taking a marked interest in you, Jane.”

Jane stopped fidgeting with the bow on her bonnet and met her mother’s beaming gaze in the mirror. Oh, dear. Mama was making wedding plans already. “He’s just interested in art.”

Mama snorted. “That’s not what the gossips were saying at the ball last night. That’s not what his aunts are saying—or my own eyes are telling me.”

Jane looked back at her bow and fussed with it some more. “I’m sure he also wishes to escape his aunts.”

“He could escape them just as easily—no, more easily—by retreating to White’s.”

Mama shouldn’t get her hopes up. She hadn’t been on the terrace last night when her darling daughter had left the imprint of her hand on the viscount’s face.

“He is merely being a polite host.” She glanced at her watch. How long had she been sitting at her dressing table? She never spent hours perfecting her appearance, yet here she was, obsessing over a bloody bow.

She was supposed to be downstairs. Lord Motton must be checking his own watch, wondering what was keeping her.

And what was keeping her? An acute case of cold feet. She squeezed her eyes closed, but opened them quickly. Better focus on this stupid bow. Her fingers were not normally so clumsy.

Fingers…dear God! How could she have been so stupid as to have slapped Lord Motton last night? True, the man had been an idiot—getting angry that she’d gone with Stephen to the refreshment room would be completely infuriating if it weren’t so ridiculous. And then he’d taken outrageous liberties—but she’d just about begged him to do that. She hadn’t struggled at all. Hell, she’d pulled his head down to her, hadn’t she?

How could she have been so bold?

“He’s being far more than a polite host,” Mama said.

“He’s being kind to his friends’ sister then.”

She should have been frightened. Edmund was far stronger than she—she’d felt that clearly when he’d put his hands on her shoulders. She’d been trapped, completely at his mercy.

But she hadn’t been frightened. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He might break her heart—would break her heart come the end of the Season, or sooner, when they solved Clarence’s puzzle—but that was her fault. She wasn’t guarding her heart carefully.

She made a face at herself in the mirror. Did she regret not being more careful? No. The pain, when it came, was just the price for all the pleasure she was learning now. And oh, his kisses were so full of pleasure. The feel of his lips on hers, his tongue deep in her mouth, his hard body pressed so tightly to hers…

Lord, she was going to spontaneously combust with embarrassment…or something else. Why had she slapped him—and hard, too? He’d had to stay on the terrace long after she’d left, waiting for the mark of her fingers on his cheek to fade.

And now she was going to visit this art gallery with him. Spend a number of hours in his company…

Even if he didn’t hate her, he must be heartily wishing her at Jericho.

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