Not Quite A Rogue by Tanya Wilde

Author:Tanya Wilde [Wilde, Tanya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Ophelia shut the door to her chamber and sagged against it for the second time that day. But this time, she had not returned empty-handed for her effort. She had secured the book. But she might have lost something much more precious along the way: her freedom.

By Zeus and Jupiter!

How could she have been so careless?

How could she let Avondale kiss her? Again.

And again, how could she kiss him back?

Do you know the number of ways I could ruin you, Ophelia?

The memory of those words brought a flutter to her pulse. Ophelia bit down on her lower lip. She did not know the answer. But Lord, a secret part of her wanted to discover each and every single way.

Are you baiting fate by running around dressed like that?

Another question she could not rightly answer.

Entering a man’s home without a chaperone?

Reckless! Reckless! Reckless!

At least this time, she had kissed Avondale in the name of distraction—or so she continued to tell herself. Of course, she could have pushed him away and darted from the room the moment his lips descended on hers. She would have. But Ophelia had spotted the betting book and allowed his mouth to conquer hers. He had kissed her before; she hadn’t thought there would be anything more to it than the first time. She had been so wrong. So utterly wrong.

This kiss, not at all sporting in its nature, had not been the playful kind. No, dear Lord, this kiss . . . this had been a man kissing a woman who knew she was being kissed by a man for herself.

When Avondale had kissed her, she had felt desired for her own person rather than the wealth behind her.

Then, as Ophelia pushed Avondale away and glimpsed the look of hunger in his gaze, it finally occurred to her, though infinitely too late, that perhaps she was tempting fate. She should never have called on Avondale alone.

It also occurred to Ophelia that in the strictest sense of the word, she was thoroughly ruined. With a sequence of three little words, the Earl of Avondale could become a very wealthy man.

Ophelia is ruined.

Proof? A witness.

We will marry.

She would not even be able to deny the statements. Because she had kissed Avondale back. She had permitted his hands to roam places much too intimate to be allowed. And she had enjoyed every unforgettable moment of those embraces. Right up until the Earl of Saville had entered the study and caught them red-handed.

Her heart still pounded at the very thought of what transpired on that desk—the desk where Avondale reviewed his accounts and all other business matters. The desk where he would probably draw up his list of demands for her father. The desk where he would now recall her behaving like a hussy every time he sat down to work. And Ophelia would now wonder each minute of the day whether he was indeed sitting behind that desk, at that very moment, and whether he was turning what they had done over in his mind.

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