Arrogant Earls 3 - Enticing the Earl by Ayers Kathleen

Author:Ayers, Kathleen [Ayers, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Amazon: B09ZK4ZBJK
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2022-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Oleana tried mightily to regain what little senses she had left as she struggled to take a full breath. Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding so hard it nearly blotted out everything else. The wood of the worktable dug into her backside as the last remnants of the pleasure she’d just experienced pulsed through her body.

My goodness.

She had never thought to experience such…passion in her life. The marital bed with Percival had been mildly satisfying. His attentions had left her content until she’d begun to ask him for more. But never had she thought the joining of a man and woman could be so raw. Savagely intimate. As if Montieth meant to take Oleana’s soul from her body with every hard thrust inside her.

She stroked the side of his face, the brush of hair along his jaw chafing her palm, enjoying the feel of his weight atop her. Oleana felt safe here within the circle of his arms. Protected.

“Montieth.” She considered telling him everything. The Caraways. Mr. Hughes. All of it.

The muscles of his big body tensed an instant before he gently pulled away from her, his gaze averted as he refused to look in her direction. He started to adjust his clothing, the movements jerky. Angry.

She reached out her hand, frowning as he stepped away, regretting the chill she could already see forming across his handsome features.

“This should not have happened.” His lovely mouth, the lips that had kissed her with no hint of coldness, only passion, tilted into a scowl. “And won’t happen again.”

The words hissed through the quiet of the kitchen, almost accusatory in nature, filling her with a most unwelcome feeling. She’d experienced such joy with Montieth only moments ago. “You are not your father,” she said quietly, remembering the stories Mrs. Beesom had told her.

“How would you know anything about my father?” he snarled back at her. “You’re a bloody housekeeper and not a very good one.”

Oleana fell back as if he’d slapped her. He was angry. Blamed Oleana for what had happened between them, which was completely unfair. “Agreed,” she shot back.

Steeling herself, she hopped off the table and smoothed down her nightgown. Gliding over to the teapot, she turned her back to him and poured the still-hot water over the tea, though she no longer wanted a cup. Oleana wanted nothing more than a moment to collect her thoughts without him watching her. “Good night, my lord.”

Montieth made a sound behind her. A growl, perhaps of annoyance.

Really, what was it he wanted her to say or do?

Oleana continued to steep the tea, pretending nothing at all was amiss, as if he hadn’t just taken her like some Viking raider on a worktable in the kitchen. Yes, she was amusing. Had lovely ankles. Was delightfully clumsy. But in the end, she was only a vicar’s widow pretending to be a skilled housekeeper, and not doing very well at that if Montieth’s suspicions were any indication. Oleana didn’t expect a sudden declaration of love or a proposal of marriage after what had occurred.

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