Midnight Pleasures With a Scoundrel 4 by Lorraine Heath

Author:Lorraine Heath [Heath, Lorraine]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061959745
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2009-10-27T07:00:00+00:00

Swindler owed Greystone another debt. The sketch Greystone provided had allowed Swindler to much more easily follow Eleanor’s trail from the train station to this nice stone cottage near the cliffs. It also helped that Greystone had made some inquiries of his peers and managed to discover the location of Viscount Watkins’s residence.

Swindler had ridden the train as far as it would take him, and then hired a horse for the remainder of the journey. At a nearby village he’d managed to garner precise directions to his destination.

He wanted to remain level-headed until he questioned Eleanor. Presently, he only had suspicions regarding her duplicity. He held out hope that another explanation existed—that she’d not in fact arranged Rockberry’s murder and then used Swindler as her alibi. But if she hadn’t, why had she left him? Had she been overcome with shame for coming to his bed? Was it her reputation she was striving to protect?

His head and his pride were in a continual argument. He was not a man prone to emotions, but he wavered between boiling rage and crushing disappointment. Then he’d remember the wonder of her in his arms, before remembering that she had shattered the fragile trust developing between them.

Then there was the matter of the dagger. He’d only caught of a glimpse of it in the shadows. Perhaps his memory of it wasn’t clear. But he’d taught himself over the years to pay attention to details. It was unlikely now that he’d become careless.

He’d barely brought the horse to a halt when she opened the door. She wore a simple dress of pink, her hair held in place with a pink ribbon.

As he dismounted, the emotions roiled through him like some sort of tempest. He was angry, yet still he desired her. He wanted the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her. He wanted her naked beneath him. He wanted her asking for his forgiveness, wanted her sharing her secrets. He wanted her arms wound around his shoulders, her fingers in his hair, her legs wrapped around his hips, her eyes holding his.

He barely remembered striding to the door, but suddenly she was in his arms, her mouth greedily greeting his. He’d been searching a fortnight, and every minute of every day had been hell, knowing what his duty would require of him when he found her, selfishly fearing he might never again set eyes on her. Desperation clung to him now, to yearn to have this forever and to know that he couldn’t.

She still smelled of roses. That much was real. She still moaned softly as he deepened the kiss. No deception there. Her body molded against his as though it belonged, and damned if he didn’t want it to.

But she’d betrayed him, betrayed his trust.

Breathing harshly, he tore his mouth from hers and cradled her face between his hands. “Why in God’s name did you leave?”

She merely shook her head.

“You did it, didn’t you?” he demanded. “Arranged for his murder. You had an accomplice.

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