Read Online London's Last True Scoundrel by Christina Brooke - Free Book Online Page B

to wonder what she looked like naked, a place all stray thoughts seemed to lead him at the moment, much as all roads led to Rome.
    Sooner or later, he was going to find out. Sooner, rather than later, if he had his way.
    Whether it was a scientific theorem or seducing a woman, when Davenport found a matter worthy of his attention and effort, he did not give up until he’d achieved his aim.
    Honey thought the trip to London would be the end of their acquaintance. He knew it was only the beginning.
    When all was ready, he took her aside and said in a low voice, “You go to a lot of trouble on my behalf. Thank you.”
    “It is no trouble,” she said, addressing his left ear. “I must apolog—”
    “Never mind that.” His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I’d have ten ceilings fall on my head for the privilege of seeing you in that night rail.”
    Despite her icy demeanor, a delicious blush stole into her cheeks. She crossed her arms in front of her pretty bosom.
    That was better. He’d prefer a blush of sexually aware embarrassment to one of painful mortification. She was a proud little thing. It was no easy matter for her to suffer the indignities her brothers inflicted on her.
    One more reason to take her away from all of this.
    “You’ll adore Rosamund, you know,” he said. “Everyone does.”
    She bit her lip, and he endured a kind of sweet pain that he could not, at this moment, do anything about the way she mangled that poor feature when she was anxious.
    “I hope she likes me,” she said in a quiet voice.
    “Of course she will,” Davenport responded. “Now, much as I should wish to keep you here, that would be selfish. You must go to bed, my dear. We have a tiring journey ahead of us.”
    He couldn’t stop himself. He chose a moment when the servants had temporarily left the room, grasped her by the shoulders, and swiftly, softly kissed her forehead.
    He heard her gasp, felt her stiffen. He drew back and gazed down at her.
    For an instant, her eyes remained closed. Then they fluttered open, gleaming pools of brandy lit by candle flame. Confusion warred with a smoky sensuality that sent hot blood rushing about in his body.
    She came to herself and darted a quick look around.
    “I wish you would not touch me,” she said, though her tone lacked all conviction.
    “I can’t help it,” he said. “You have this dreadful effect on me. My brain closes down completely.”
    “If I didn’t think I must be one of legions who have that effect on you, I might be flattered.”
    He didn’t think it wise to explain to her just how different she was from those legions. He gave a helpless shrug.
    Her gaze fixed on his chest with the movement and he laughed in silent enjoyment. She was endlessly entertaining. His delighted anticipation of their journey to London increased with every moment.
    “Ought you not be going now?” he suggested. The final bucket of water had been disgorged into his bath. “Or would you like to stay and scrub my back?”
    A series of expressions flitted across her face, all of them conflicting.
    “Good night, my lord.”
    The words were pronounced in her most withering tone.
    By contrast, he remained quite alarmingly un withered long after she left. So unwithered, in fact, that he declined assistance from either servant with his bath. He’d be obliged to scrub his own back, for his genitals did not seem to be taking Honey’s no for an answer.
    The silhouette of her lovely, lithe little body beneath that worn night rail had him worked up into a fine state.
    When the servants departed, he dropped his makeshift covering. Sinking into the steaming water, he began to scrub vigorously at his chest.
    Before he’d finished removing the plaster dust from his torso, the redoubtable Trixie popped her head around the door again. “Beg pardon, my lord, but I was wondering if you be needful of anything else.” She said it with a wink that left him in no doubt of her meaning.
    His parts had