Read Online One Whisper Away by Emma Wildes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Wildes
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the pillows with her body in flagrant display was uninvited.
The countess’s effrontery aside, he had to somehow deal with this in a diplomatic way and get her out of the house without anyone ever knowing she’d been there. Obviously Lady Irving was used to getting what she wanted. Jonathan was wet and chilled, and what mud the rain hadn’t washed away still clung to his skin. He moved toward the screen in the corner where a basin and towel sat ready. “How the devil did you get in?”
He should probably be more polite, but the truth was, she shouldn’t be lying naked in his bed without an invitation either. She had set the rules.
“It wasn’t complicated. My maid had a few words with your valet and he let me in the house, very discreetly, of course. When you didn’t arrive at the time specified on my invitation, I waited an hour and decided to change your mind. Oh . . . you’re bleeding.”
The breathy observation registered and Jonathan glanced down to note that indeed there was a fine line of red from a cut on his upper biceps, the seep of blood mingling with the water on his skin.
“It’s nothing,” he said, wondering now just what had been hurled his direction in the darkness. Whoever had run away had apparently not just flung a rock, which had been his first impression. “I should probably wash it.”
“Don’t be long, my lord.” Valerie smiled and stretched her body in a voluptuous arch designed to showcase her breasts—and they were spectacular, he had to admit. He ducked behind the screen to wash with the tepid water in the basin. He took his time, wondering just how to handle this less than ideal situation, tearing a small strip of cloth off his discarded cravat and wrapping it around his injured upper arm.
The cut stung, but the uninvited lady in his bed was a much larger dilemma.
He actually hadn’t been with any woman since before his journey to London, but this wasn’t how he had pictured ending his celibacy. As far as he was concerned, there was a strict line drawn over bedding another man’s wife.
It was unconscionable. Rules existed in his world, no matter how much Lady Irving might feel like sampling the Savage Earl. Because, he thought sardonically, splashing water on his face and arms and reaching for a towel, that was the basis of this determined seduction. His unusual lineage titillated the sophisticated ladies of London society. He’d discovered that almost at once. Her taste for the exotic might be an amorous adventure for her, but for him it was crossing a self-imposed boundary.
As he swabbed his face and torso clean, he decided the English did not hold the standard of their self-proclaimed honor very high if infidelity was so acceptable. Still, his sisters need to be launched into society, and he hardly wanted to insult a very prominent hostess with ties to the royal family.
One devil of a problem.
When he emerged, she regarded him from across the room with a languid look. “Why don’t you come here and demonstrate the wild edge everyone speaks of? I must admit that when you walked in, wet and only half clothed, I was more attracted to you than ever. Is that how you dress in your . . . native environment?”
“Native?” He repeated the word with full irony. “I take it we are not talking about the refined streets of Boston and New York but longhouses and birch canoes.”
The furrow of her brow told him she wasn’t quite sure, but she pictured him all too easily in an environment that was less civilized than the earl’s suite that they currently occupied together.
His breeches were still soaked, but when he’d briefly debated removing them and putting on his dressing gown, he decided that it would be too intimate. Now, how to tactfully get rid of his unwanted visitor, though she’d surely been less than tactful with him and he wasn’t sure she deserved his solicitude.
She ran her hand suggestively over the generous curve of her naked breast and shifted her
The countess’s effrontery aside, he had to somehow deal with this in a diplomatic way and get her out of the house without anyone ever knowing she’d been there. Obviously Lady Irving was used to getting what she wanted. Jonathan was wet and chilled, and what mud the rain hadn’t washed away still clung to his skin. He moved toward the screen in the corner where a basin and towel sat ready. “How the devil did you get in?”
He should probably be more polite, but the truth was, she shouldn’t be lying naked in his bed without an invitation either. She had set the rules.
“It wasn’t complicated. My maid had a few words with your valet and he let me in the house, very discreetly, of course. When you didn’t arrive at the time specified on my invitation, I waited an hour and decided to change your mind. Oh . . . you’re bleeding.”
The breathy observation registered and Jonathan glanced down to note that indeed there was a fine line of red from a cut on his upper biceps, the seep of blood mingling with the water on his skin.
“It’s nothing,” he said, wondering now just what had been hurled his direction in the darkness. Whoever had run away had apparently not just flung a rock, which had been his first impression. “I should probably wash it.”
“Don’t be long, my lord.” Valerie smiled and stretched her body in a voluptuous arch designed to showcase her breasts—and they were spectacular, he had to admit. He ducked behind the screen to wash with the tepid water in the basin. He took his time, wondering just how to handle this less than ideal situation, tearing a small strip of cloth off his discarded cravat and wrapping it around his injured upper arm.
The cut stung, but the uninvited lady in his bed was a much larger dilemma.
He actually hadn’t been with any woman since before his journey to London, but this wasn’t how he had pictured ending his celibacy. As far as he was concerned, there was a strict line drawn over bedding another man’s wife.
It was unconscionable. Rules existed in his world, no matter how much Lady Irving might feel like sampling the Savage Earl. Because, he thought sardonically, splashing water on his face and arms and reaching for a towel, that was the basis of this determined seduction. His unusual lineage titillated the sophisticated ladies of London society. He’d discovered that almost at once. Her taste for the exotic might be an amorous adventure for her, but for him it was crossing a self-imposed boundary.
As he swabbed his face and torso clean, he decided the English did not hold the standard of their self-proclaimed honor very high if infidelity was so acceptable. Still, his sisters need to be launched into society, and he hardly wanted to insult a very prominent hostess with ties to the royal family.
One devil of a problem.
When he emerged, she regarded him from across the room with a languid look. “Why don’t you come here and demonstrate the wild edge everyone speaks of? I must admit that when you walked in, wet and only half clothed, I was more attracted to you than ever. Is that how you dress in your . . . native environment?”
“Native?” He repeated the word with full irony. “I take it we are not talking about the refined streets of Boston and New York but longhouses and birch canoes.”
The furrow of her brow told him she wasn’t quite sure, but she pictured him all too easily in an environment that was less civilized than the earl’s suite that they currently occupied together.
His breeches were still soaked, but when he’d briefly debated removing them and putting on his dressing gown, he decided that it would be too intimate. Now, how to tactfully get rid of his unwanted visitor, though she’d surely been less than tactful with him and he wasn’t sure she deserved his solicitude.
She ran her hand suggestively over the generous curve of her naked breast and shifted her
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