How to Enjoy a Scandal by Adrienne Basso

Author:Adrienne Basso [Basso, Adrienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Google: CdU6he1KZrAC
Amazon: 0821780417
Barnesnoble: 0821780417
Goodreads: 3097411
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2008-04-01T05:00:00+00:00

Disturbed by these persistent thoughts, Jason cleared his throat. Though he had honestly tried, he had not been able to divest himself of the vividness of his sexual fantasies and the need to make them a reality was becoming almost unbearable.

Yet he admitted that this desire went beyond a sexual satisfaction. Somewhere deep inside lurked the intense desire to know Gwendolyn as well as he knew himself.

“Do I have a smudge of dirt on my face, my lord?”

“Jason,” he responded automatically, glancing over at Dorothea, who was dozing and lightly snoring. “Dorothea is nearly asleep, so it is safe. We agreed that when we are alone, you would call me Jason.”

“What I call you has no bearing on why you are staring at me,” she answered.

“I admire beautiful women.”

“Then you should gaze at Dorothea.”

“I prefer you.”

“Nonsense.” Her face went carefully blank. “Everyone knows that Dorothea is the beauty of our family,” she said, her voice soft, with but a hint of bittersweet emotion laced in it.

He wanted to argue the point with her. He wanted to enumerate all the reasons he preferred her looks, her personality, to her sister’s. But he held his tongue.

Jason looked out the window and noticed they had reached a particularly isolated and empty stretch of road. The stillness of the night was suddenly shattered when something that sounded like a shot rang out, reverberating in the silence. The carriage careened from side to side, lurched, then jerked sharply to the left. It rolled a few more feet, then stopped.

Gwendolyn jerked upright. Her heartbeat faltered, then took off racing. She could hear the coachman shouting, his voice alarmed.

“What’s happening?” Dorothea cried, her eyes blinking with sleep and fear.

“I think we have been waylaid,” Lord Fairhurst replied calmly. “By a highwayman.”

“In Willoughby?” Dorothea squeaked.

“Apparently crime knows no borders.” The viscount reached beneath the seat, then cursed softly.

“What? What else is wrong?” Gwendolyn asked.

“I had forgotten this is not my usual coach. I always keep a loaded pistol beneath the seats, just as a precaution.”

“My God.” Dorothea’s voice was breathless with astonishment.

“It might not be my usual coach, but it is my usual coachman driving. He knows what to do.” The viscount leaned forward and blew out the lantern, plunging the inside of the carriage into darkness. “I want the two of you to stay in here and remain very, very quiet.”

Panic flared in Gwendolyn’s chest and for an instant, she could not breathe. The moonlight provided only enough light for her to distinguish the viscount from her sister. She reached out and grabbed his knee. “You cannot go out there unarmed.”

“There are plenty of weapons for me on the top of the box,” he insisted. “No doubt my two outriders have escaped and ridden for aid, or else they are hiding in the forest, awaiting my orders.”

Gwendolyn grimaced. “The outriders could be wounded. Or worse.”

“Saints preserve us!” The terror in Dorothea’s voice echoed through the carriage.

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