The Baron Without Blame by Katherine Grant

Author:Katherine Grant [Grant, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, beta hero, feminist romance
Publisher: Katie Flanagan
Published: 2021-06-14T13:10:13+00:00

Chapter Eight

Northfield Hall was the type of house that grew deathly quiet at night. Wrapped in her quilt on the first story, Lolly could hear the creaks of servants closing up each room, the slow footsteps of her father retiring to his suite, the groan of the floorboards as everyone settled for the night. And then…nothing. With the thick curtains tied shut across the windows and brick walls closing her in, the house went silent. After a while, she couldn’t even hear the crackle of the fire, seeing as it had cooled to embers.

It hadn’t bothered her the other nights. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as tucking herself into a cocoon of covers.

Tonight, however, her whole body buzzed, as if it were midday instead of midnight.

What a day it had been. Burning anger at Martin, bookended by two unforgettable kisses. The last one in the garden had felt endless, like a bursting glimpse of eternity.

Even now, she felt the ghost of his lips exploring her skin.

He was only a few rooms away from her. This had always been true, but tonight, Lolly felt it as if he were lying on the mattress beside her. Separated only by a few walls and several hundred feet, Martin slept. She imagined him on his back, just like she was. Except he wouldn’t turn to covers for comfort. He would be sprawled, two powerful legs stretching towards the bedposts. It was a warm enough night that perhaps he wouldn’t be wearing anything except his nightshirt.

Maybe he would have removed even that.

Lolly pressed her eyes closed, a wave of hot desire rolling deep inside her. She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help picturing him naked. She had felt his muscles beneath his clothes just hours earlier. His chest would be strong and firm, a canvas waiting to be kissed. His arms would flex as they reached above his head. And his legs…

Lolly had never properly seen a man’s legs without trousers, but she remembered how they had felt pressed against her thighs, fully clothed. Strong. Demanding. With specific ideas of what might happen next.

There was his member, too. It was cloudy in her imagination, but that didn’t matter. Again, she remembered its silhouette, nudging between her legs. She hadn’t expected that to be so blinding, not with bolts of material between them. But the memory of it alone drove her fingers down to her quim. She rubbed her thumb against the point that always begged for attention. She imagined it was Martin, as eager for her as she was for him. She pressed herself against the mattress the way he had pressed her against the wall. She conjured his teeth nibbling at her neck. And while her thumb pulsed against her peak, her fingers slid downwards, charging all the way down to her channel. She made herself gasp, imagining it was Martin in all his male glory. Her daydream got bigger, looser, turning him into a shadow above her, kissing her as he pounded

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