(Neville Family #1) Never Lie To A Lady by Liz Carlyle

Author:Liz Carlyle [Carlyle, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Xanthia arrived home that evening and went straight upstairs to her bedchamber. “Tell my brother that I have a headache and shan’t be dining with him tonight,” she instructed the housemaid who answered her bell. “And be so good as to send up hot water for my bath—lots of it, please.”

The maid nodded sympathetically. “A hot bath’ll do you good, miss, to be sure.”

Once the old brass slipper-tub was pulled from the dressing room and filled, Xanthia dismissed the servants, saying she was going straight to bed and did not wish to be disturbed again. Then she slipped into the deep, hot water and tried to steady her nerves—or perhaps her anticipation was a better word.

Tonight she would make love with Nash. Not some impulsive, illicit act performed in haste and desperation, but a slow and deliberate savoring of one another. And Nash was a man well worth savoring. With a deep exhalation, Xanthia let her head fall back against the high rim, and slid deeper into the bath.

Perhaps she should have been more apprehensive. Nash was a connoisseur of female flesh. He had doubtless made love to many women; women skilled in the arts of arousal and satisfaction. Xanthia, by contrast, knew little about either. But strangely, she felt she knew Nash. He was intrigued with her, of that Xanthia had little doubt. Whether or not simple intrigue would become anything more remained to be seen. Xanthia accepted that life was fraught with uncertainties, and she had learned to take her pleasure

—and her comfort—where and when she could. She would take all that Lord Nash could offer her, and be glad of it. She would not look beyond tonight.

So resolved, Xanthia took up the soap and her brush, and scrubbed herself head to toe, all the while thinking of Nash. In the warm, sudsy water, she lifted her breasts in her hands. She was no beauty, it was true, but she was made generously enough, she thought. She had the sort of trim, vigorous body which some men appreciated—Nash apparently amongst them. Last night, despite his obvious anger and frustration, the simmering heat in his gaze had been unmistakable.

And tonight…would he look at her again in just that way? Would his black eyes melt with ardor as he stripped the clothes from her body? At the mere thought, something in Xanthia’s stomach seemed to twist; it was a sweet, yearning sensation which melted through her body, leaving her longing for something ill defined. But Nash would know just what she needed. Xanthia understood that instinctively.

She touched herself there—where his mouth had been but a few days past—and shivered with anticipation.

Good Lord, it was time to get dressed.

She dried, and drew on one of her few extravagances—hideously expensive silk undergarments.

Soon, a dozen dresses had been drawn from her wardrobe, and rejected again. Xanthia, who scarce gave a thought to her wardrobe, was suddenly beset by doubt. She held up two gowns, studying each in the mirror. What did the well-dressed woman wear to an assignation? Red? She wrinkled her nose and tossed it aside.

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