Never Tempt a Rogue by Christy Carlyle

Author:Christy Carlyle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Gilded Heart Publishing
Published: 2016-07-30T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Felicity climbed into bed, settled under the covers, and pulled a slip of paper out from between the pages of her etiquette book to mark the end of another night. For four days she’d kept her promise to Lady Forsythe, sticking by Amy’s side, doing her chaperone duties to the best of her ability, and completely avoiding Lord Lindsay. He’d obeyed his aunt’s wishes too, for the most part. He had tried to corner her in the conservatory, sat near her during a parlor game, and even sent a note requesting that she meet him secretly in the library.

She’d been tempted. Her body responded to his nearness as if the man was his own little sun, exuding heat and warming every inch of her skin. And more, he set off a frantic fluttering in her belly every time he looked her way, until she was full of fanciful thoughts. How would it be to have nothing between them? To be able to speak, and touch, and explore their attraction honestly, with no thought of titles or etiquette.

Yes, the man sparked temptation in her, especially when he was staring at her intently from across a drawing room.

But she’d resisted. Kept her distance, striving not to meet his gaze. The days had been exhausting, but her etiquette book had gotten some use. She’d been reading a chapter each night. If she managed it, only then would she allow herself a few pages of Jane Eyre.

Alex’s implication that the novel improved seemed wild exaggeration. The governess was on the cusp of receiving a second offer of marriage, but it was from a dreadfully dull clergyman. Surely remaining alone and embracing a life of spinsterhood was preferable to being controlled by an austere, passionless man.

Two pages into the etiquette book, Felicity skimmed her eyes back up the paragraphs. She couldn’t remember a single word she’d read, and had to force her idle hand away from her mouth. For days she’d caught herself tracing a finger across her lips, recalling the shape of Alex’s mouth, the taste of him, the way his kisses made her breathless.

“Damn his lips.” Felicity bit her own, recalling a line from the etiquette book about avoiding exclamations and vulgarity.

If only she hadn’t kissed him. If only she didn’t know the tenderness of his touch. If only he wasn’t sleeping just a few doors down the hall.

Six more days. She and Amy would depart back home in less than week, and then her encounters with Alex would be nothing but a memory. The yearning might remain, the desire to see him and speak with him and know what caused the sadness she sometimes detected in his gaze. But she’d return to being an old maid in her uncle’s household, and Alex would take up the duties of being a viscount. They’d never cross paths again. If Amy married the Earl of Baxindale—after eight days, the man’s interest in her cousin was clear—she would have no more need for a chaperone, and Felicity would never have a need to enter into aristocratic society again.

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