Must Love Breeches by Angela Quarles

Author:Angela Quarles [Quarles, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Time Travel, Historical, Regency, Paranormal
ISBN: 978-0-9905400-0-7
Published: 2014-09-02T23:00:00+00:00

Phineas leaped into his carriage. Time to collect Miss Rochon. He settled back into the cushions and struggled to compose his thoughts, to not dwell on Saturday night’s events, but to no avail. Just the idea of her, the image of her, above him, pressed along his length, passionately responding to him, and then beneath him blushing—well, the idea, the image, returned to his mind’s eye over and over, again and again, and each blessed, confounded time, heat spiked through him.

No lady had ever responded to him in that manner. In fact, it was one more aspect of her character that puzzled him: her experience. He was not the first to kiss her thoroughly, that much was evident. Who was she? Who was she hiding from? A former lover? At that notion, a bolt of jealousy shot through him, as well as an inexplicable desire to protect her.

Moreover, having to be near her earlier today while she attended his wound, the agonizing physical closeness and the agonizing emotional distance...

How stiff and formal had been their interaction. He winced. Every gesture, every word of hers acting to describe and fortify the wall around her, shutting him out, creating the illusion that he had never been privileged to be within them. He dared not take the requisite step to clear the air between them. Was she offended by the liberty he had taken? He tried to pass it off as an expedient against detection, but obviously she was not fooled. His aroused state during the kiss had certainly been in evidence. Could he have been mistaken about her reaction to his embrace? Furthermore, how the devil was he to manage an evening at the theatre in her company? What had he been thinking?

Actually, he had not been.

He had resolved on asking her before the kiss transpired. Without stopping to think, he followed through with it when taking his leave. Damnation, she was distracting.

Unbidden, the scene in the room at the ball played again in his memory. A surge of heat pulsed through him. His fist pounded once against the empty seat beside him. Bloody hell.

He forced his mind to concentrate on the next stages of his ‘project’, as he had termed it with Miss Rochon.

His flesh fought, but his mind prevailed. It would have been disastrous to pick her up in such an aroused state.

One thing he could ill afford at this juncture was allowing his passions to rule him. After all, his project owed its birth to that damnable emotion. Cause and effect. To become what he despised most about his enemies—unthinkable. No, he would be the master of his passion; he would not permit it to rule another’s will. He was not that kind of man.

All the evidence he required to bring down the group of men—he refused to honor them by the term gentlemen—who had caused his sister’s ruination was almost within his grasp. His hands curled into tight fists. The choking impotency he always felt, the guilt, nearly overpowered him.

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