Isn't He Wicked (Wickedly Yours) by Emma Wildes

Author:Emma Wildes [Wildes, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Emma Wildes, historical romance, Regency, erotic historical romance, romance
Publisher: IGLA
Published: 2014-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It was difficult to tell if she was more shocked or gratified, but Charity felt her husband’s warm mouth against her ear and the strong clasp of his hand at her waist, the actual words barely registering. When she’d seen him walking across the ballroom toward her, an unfathomable expression on his handsome face, she had been hopeful he might actually take the time to dance with her.

Like some dreamy-eyed, romantic girl, she chided herself, but it was mortifying to be so thoroughly ignored at every event.

She hadn’t been prepared, she discovered, for an open gesture of suggestive seduction in the middle of a crowded ballroom. His teeth actually nibbled at her earlobe in front of the gaping crowd.

“I…I beg your pardon?”

Joshua lifted his head and gazed down at her with one brow lifted, a glint of wicked amusement in his gray eyes. “I believe I just declared that I would like to have you all to myself for the rest of this evening.” He added, “And maybe well into tomorrow morning.”

What was she supposed to say?

It turned out she didn’t have to answer, for he merely waltzed her to the edge of the floor and took her hand. He led her through the crowd toward the doors to the foyer, their fingers still entwined. Charity was aware of people staring, a few chuckles as they passed, and in moments Joshua settled her cloak lightly over her shoulders.

“It’s drizzling,” he observed, solicitously arranging her hood as they waited for his carriage to be brought around, as if he hadn’t done something outrageous in front of most of fashionable London.

It was difficult to decide if she should be scandalized or appreciative. The latter, she decided as she stole a surreptitious look at his profile. Her mother had informed her earlier that people were whispering over his neglect of his new bride, speculating about how long it would be until he took a lover to assuage the boredom of his forced marriage.

“Thank you,” she murmured, speaking of much more than making sure the fine spring rain didn’t dampen her new gown or ruin her coiffure.

She had a feeling he didn’t misunderstand but neither did he comment, standing next to her, the rain gleaming on his fine jacket and dark hair, his features clean and finely cut. As the vehicle rolled to a halt, Joshua handed her in and then entered himself, settling on the seat in a casual masculine sprawl. “I suppose,” he said quietly, gazing at her, “whisking you away so abruptly will start a new torrent of whispers, since no doubt everyone is aware of my lascivious intentions. Does it bother you or make the situation better?”

“Are they lascivious?” She declined to directly answer, though it was difficult to keep her tone light and teasing when the way he looked at her made her heart pound. “I thought perhaps you might want to sit in the parlor and play whist.”

“Oh, I want to play,” he countered with a hint of huskiness in his tone.

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