Never Kiss a Rake by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Regency, Historical Romance, General, Romance, Suspense, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781477807323
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2013-08-20T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

IN THE END, Bryony had no choice in the matter. Much as she wanted to inspect Lady Kilmartyn’s apartment, Mr. Peach and his crew were arriving after lunch to begin work on Kilmartyn’s room, and she needed to get his belongings out of there. More important, she needed to get the leather book from beneath the mattress.

It had been easier than she expected. Mr. Collins was an excellent taskmaster, and he kept the men busy making room for the new furniture. She could hear the girls chattering away cheerfully from down the hall, and there were no eyes to watch her as she stepped back into his bedchamber once more.

She was perfectly composed looking out the tall windows, glancing at the pretty rug, the door to the empty dressing room. It wasn’t until she looked down at the unmade bed that her body felt suffused with heat.

She needed fresh air, she thought, making no move to go to the window. She simply stood and stared at the bed. Your heart is pounding, your pulses are racing, and your nipples are hard. I’m willing to bet my sweet little virgin is wet. His soft, seductive words echoed in her mind, as she felt her body responding to the memory of those moments in the bed with him, the fierce surge of pleasure at the touch of his hand between her legs.

She gave herself an impatient shake. She was no young debutante to be all atremble over a man. She was simply… unused to such attentions. It was no wonder it had upset her. But she was strong-willed, and she would deal with it.

The girls hadn’t made the bed, knowing it was going to be dismantled, and she looked at the tangled sheets. Remembering them twisted around his naked body.

“Oh, God,” she whispered out loud, though whether it was a curse or a prayer she had no idea. Gritting her teeth, she touched the soft, wrinkled sheets, then slid her hands beneath the mattress.

For a moment she thought it was gone. She could have sworn it was closer to the foot of the bed, but instead it was toward the head. It didn’t matter—when her fingers finally touched it she drew it out with a sigh of relief.

It didn’t look particularly prepossessing. It was simply an oversize, leather-bound book, with no title on the cover and an unexpected lock holding it closed. She was about to fiddle with it when she heard Mr. Collins’s voice nearby, and she quickly yanked the sheets off the bed, wrapping them around the book a moment before he walked in the door.

He didn’t seem to find it odd that she was kneeling by Kilmartyn’s bed. “We’re ready to move the furniture if you wish, Mrs. Greaves.”

She rose, still clutching her treasure beneath the heap of sheets. They smelled like him. Not in a bad way—the scent was a combination of skin and spice and leather, and she belatedly thought of the bedside table and its odd contents.

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