A Game of Hazard: Wedding Wager Book 11 by Elizabeth Keysian & Wedding Wager

Author:Elizabeth Keysian & Wedding Wager [Keysian, Elizabeth & Wager, Wedding]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elizabeth Keysian Books
Published: 2023-03-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

Harewood’s kiss left Alex limp and full of yearning. She shook her fuddled head. No—it couldn’t be the sensation of his hungry mouth on hers. It must be the laudanum making her weak at the knees, snatching away all willpower. The room swayed.

“Whoa!”

She was caught up and pressed against a sturdy chest.

“Unhand me, you unmannerly lout!” Her words were slurred—she sounded as if she’d just reeled out of some country tavern, totally intoxicated. Curse it!

She pushed at him, but made no headway, and when she lifted one foot to attempt a kick, she lost her balance and collapsed against her foe.

Help was needed. Desperately.

“Mam—”

“Hush.” The captain pressed a finger against her lips, and the heat in his gaze quelled her. If she tried to cry out again, that look told her, he’d kiss her into silence. If she let him do that, she’d be utterly lost. No—she was lost already. Her body simply refused to fight him.

When he settled himself into a chair with her in his lap, she didn’t even try to wriggle free. Well—there was no point in hurting herself, was there? She’d only fall if she attempted to run away. Part of her knew that this was not a safe position for an innocent young lady, particularly one wearing nothing but a nightgown. Another—more treacherous—part of her relished the delicious wickedness of being in Harewood’s lap.

“Here.” He reached for the washcloth, dipped it in the bedside basin, and handed it to her. “Wipe that stuff off your face. It tastes foul, and I can’t imagine it’s doing you any good. Or would you like me to do it?”

She lifted a limp hand, then groaned. “You do it. If you must.”

As he smoothed the cloth across her face, she noted that his touch was surprisingly gentle for a man of the sword. He wiped her throat as well but ventured no lower—he had some decency left, then.

“I’m so sleepy. Can’t I go to bed?” Her voice still sounded slurred. Wherever had she found the energy to slap his face? Why had she been unable to find the strength to resist his lips?

“Not yet. First, you’re going to tell me all your secrets.”

Couldn’t she just go to sleep now? Her head felt so heavy—too heavy. She could feel herself drooping.

“Poor darling. You’ve tried so hard.”

He stroked her hair, then tucked her head against his shoulder. Curiously, despite knowing him to be her enemy, she felt soothed and protected in his arms. His hand moved down and began rhythmically stroking her back. It felt so good.

“Now, then. Either you find my pursuit of you so odious that you must stage your own death to avoid me, or there’s something greater afoot.”

This was unfair, to lull her into a sensual haze and then quiz her.

“I can’t tell you. People might be harmed.”

She should be fighting him right now, running for the door and calling for help, not letting his physical presence imbue her with heat, lighting little fires across her skin.

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