Wicked Earl, Wanton Widow by Bronwyn Scott

Author:Bronwyn Scott
Language: ron
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

But Killian was ashamed. Not for the boy, but for himself. He’d been unaware his whole life, but Rose wasn’t. She knew these people, knew their individual needs, like those of the fourteen-year-old boy who’d been out doing a man’s work in place of a father who couldn’t, a father who must be lying at home worrying about what his family would do without his wages. She was doing what she could for them, and as a widow on her own with no substantial wealth to her name she was not necessarily well-placed to do it.

Rose Janeway was not rich. Her neat stone manor was nicely kept, but it was old. He’d taken stock over the week of her circumstances. Her furnishings were well-worn. He’d be surprised if the scarred wardrobe they’d made love against that first morning was less than two generations old. In all likelihood it was probably more. In the country, furniture was handed down father to son, mother to daughter. These homes were not like the townhouses of London’s elite, redone according to whim and fashion.

No, Rose Janeway was not rich. But she was doing what she could with what she had, and Killian guessed she was doing so at some expense to her personal comfort. In Kent, the laborers earned fifteen pence per week, and she’d paid out an average of twenty pence for a week’s worth of work.

At last, the workers were gone. Even Peyton, who’d stayed until the end, had left. A thrill ran through Killian at the thought of having Rose to himself and the sensual celebration they would carry out in private. He was imagining how he would take her on the soft bed upstairs, her hair spread out on the pillow, her body completely naked in the candlelight, her lips wet with kisses, when Rose closed the cash box and held out her hand. “Come with me, Killian.”

At her touch, he hardened immediately, but she did not lead him upstairs. Instead, she led him into the cider shed. The sweet smell of apples assailed his nostrils; the shed was warm and crowded with barrels of fruit waiting to be made into the region’s preferred drink. He’d never seen so many apples in one place before.

“What are we doing here?” Killian asked, trying to combat the dual senses of urgency (he wanted her desperately) and disappointment (since it appeared they weren’t headed directly upstairs).

She turned and smiled at him, a wide, generous smile that fulfilled all his preconceived notions about her mouth. She pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms about his neck before dropping a hand between his legs and squeezing gently. “We’re doing this.” Then she took his mouth in a deep kiss that fired his imagination while leaving nothing to it.

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