Pall Mall Peer by Annabelle Anders

Author:Annabelle Anders
Language: eng
Format: epub

A Most Improper Proposal

Benjamin

Ben wanted to trust her. And for the most part, he didn’t really believe she could escape him on foot. But something about this woman brought out his very worst.

It was as though she’d awakened some undisciplined part of him—the tendencies he’d buried along with his father.

But, unlike the man who’d sired him, Ben could control such impulses. He’d spent years developing his self-control.

So what about this woman was breaking it down?

“Fine,” she finally answered, daring him. Her cheeks were bright and pink, and her defiant eyes mesmerized him even as she pushed out her lips, pouting.

He expected her to argue. But of course, she defied expectations and went right to work.

She’d used a cravat to keep the breeches up, and after fumbling ineffectively, huffed in frustration as she struggled and failed to untie the knot.

“You’re making it worse,” Ben said.

Her hands stilled, and then, frustrated, she threw them up in surrender. “Then by all means, do your best.”

Gone was the timid companion, the woman who’d intentionally diminished her presence. Miss Buckingham, the impoverished relation, had been replaced by someone else entirely. And in that moment, she’d become nothing less than a mythological goddess.

The thought occurred unbidden, but once it settled in his mind, he couldn’t shake the impression.

“Fine.” He echoed her grudging agreement.

Ben closed the space between them, and dropping to his knees, went to work loosening the knot. He only paused for a second when her hands landed on his shoulders.

Whereas she’d barely used him for support to climb off Pistol, this time she held on, and he felt her staring down at him.

Ben wouldn’t have complained if she’d run those hands through his hair.

Forcing his attention on untying the cravat, he picked at one of the loops until it gave way. He then took his time unraveling the others.

Ben inhaled, fighting the urge to press his face against her belly and move his hands around to her backside.

“Sit down,” he ordered, his voice strained. When she didn’t move, he tipped his head back. “Hessians are the primary reason men employ valets.”

Ben trailed his hands down her waist, over her thighs, until his fingertips dipped inside the tops of the boots. Even with the breeches tucked in, a gap remained between the leather and her legs. She could easily remove them herself.

Nonetheless, this time, she obeyed him without question.

Her obedience was more than a détente. It was a surrender on both parts—if only a temporary one.

Not that he’d ever considered a woman to be his enemy. But this one had been chipping away at his walls from the moment she’d burst out of Foxbourne’s carriage.

The boot slid off easier than he’d imagined. “How the devil did you ride in these?”

“It wasn’t easy,” she answered, wiggling her toes beneath a pair of wool stockings. Her foot was small enough to fit in his hand, and he grasped her heel, taking a moment to rub his thumb along the sole.

She winced, and he immediately stopped.

“It’s nothing. A blister.

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