Read Online The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection by Dorothy McFalls - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy McFalls
Tags: Sweet and Sexy Regency
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blanketed the room. The unmistakably smooth voice seemed to sink even deeper within the library’s depths.
Startled, May’s hands flew to her mouth. “Why ever for, my lord,” she replied, her gaze searching the gloom for the viscount. “I am a guest, not a thief.”
“Is that so? Then why is a delicate little cup missing from my china set?”
The blasted teacup! In the chaos of the last couple of days, she had completely forgotten to send her housekeeper around to return it.
“Did you shatter the poor thing into tiny pieces in a fit of rage?”
“Of course I did nothing of the sort.” May found no comfort in speaking to a gentleman under the complete cover of night. Especially a rogue . . . an incredibly handsome rogue who had persisted to haunt her unruly thoughts. Her hand curled around the door handle. Not generally a coward, tonight she was more than prepared to flee.
“If not a thief, what are you doing hiding in the darkness?” he asked.
Curiosity kept her hand from turning the doorknob. “What are you doing in the darkness?” she asked. “Do not forget, I was the one who found you in here. Not the other way around.”
The rustle of material alerted her to his approach. He was mere steps away from her and her thundering heart when a curtain parted and welcomed a beam of moonlight into the room.
“I was trying to find a moment’s peace,” he said and then sighed deeply. “And you?”
“The same,” she admitted.
“Ah.” He took a step closer. His sharply defined features were bathed in the ghostly pale light of the moon. “Our hosts would be horrified to learn of the reason for our escape.”
“I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts”—she rushed to explain—“not flee from anyone particular.”
“No? Not even from that droll Mr. Tumblestone?” His brows rose. He crossed his arms over his chest and presented a languid pose only properly executed by the most notorious of rakes. “He is what? Sixty years old? I shiver at the rumor that you are soon to be his bride.”
Was he mocking her?
“I wonder if Lady Lillian is shivering at the thought of you as a husband,” she returned cruelly.
A frightening look of pure anger tightened his lazy expression. His lips hardened into a thin line.
“I have struck a chord, have I?” Good . She was glad for her tongue’s accurate marksmanship. “Perhaps you’re only too aware that you’re old enough to be her father.” May wasn’t certain of the fact. She knew that Evers had passed his thirtieth year. For how many years, she could not guess.
“My age?” His grim expression relaxed. “You think my age frightens her as thoroughly as Mr. Tumblestone’s frightens you?” He laughed then, a low sound that rumbled in his throat. “You’ve overlooked one important fact, my pretty thief. I am a man in my prime. A man with lustful needs.”
May didn’t trust the wolfish gleam that suddenly brightened his eyes or the deepening pitch of his voice. She had read stories about men being transformed into beasts by the sight of a full moon. The situation coupled with an inordinate amount of moonlight pouring through the window was enough to make her wary.
A single woman should never be caught alone with a man, especially in an unlit room. Such an oversight in propriety could leave her reputation in tatters.
“My lord,” she whispered as he leaned forward, closing the gap between them. The pure scent of him, a refreshing blend of cheroot and vanilla, left her senses reeling.
He peeled off a glove. The rough pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip. She gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her mind could barely form a protest before his head dipped down and his lips captured hers.
At first, shock paralyzed her. She couldn’t pull away even if she had wanted to. Then, a deep heat rose up from low in her belly, melting her resolve . . . washing away any warring thoughts. She pressed her hand against his chest, thrilling in the raw
Startled, May’s hands flew to her mouth. “Why ever for, my lord,” she replied, her gaze searching the gloom for the viscount. “I am a guest, not a thief.”
“Is that so? Then why is a delicate little cup missing from my china set?”
The blasted teacup! In the chaos of the last couple of days, she had completely forgotten to send her housekeeper around to return it.
“Did you shatter the poor thing into tiny pieces in a fit of rage?”
“Of course I did nothing of the sort.” May found no comfort in speaking to a gentleman under the complete cover of night. Especially a rogue . . . an incredibly handsome rogue who had persisted to haunt her unruly thoughts. Her hand curled around the door handle. Not generally a coward, tonight she was more than prepared to flee.
“If not a thief, what are you doing hiding in the darkness?” he asked.
Curiosity kept her hand from turning the doorknob. “What are you doing in the darkness?” she asked. “Do not forget, I was the one who found you in here. Not the other way around.”
The rustle of material alerted her to his approach. He was mere steps away from her and her thundering heart when a curtain parted and welcomed a beam of moonlight into the room.
“I was trying to find a moment’s peace,” he said and then sighed deeply. “And you?”
“The same,” she admitted.
“Ah.” He took a step closer. His sharply defined features were bathed in the ghostly pale light of the moon. “Our hosts would be horrified to learn of the reason for our escape.”
“I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts”—she rushed to explain—“not flee from anyone particular.”
“No? Not even from that droll Mr. Tumblestone?” His brows rose. He crossed his arms over his chest and presented a languid pose only properly executed by the most notorious of rakes. “He is what? Sixty years old? I shiver at the rumor that you are soon to be his bride.”
Was he mocking her?
“I wonder if Lady Lillian is shivering at the thought of you as a husband,” she returned cruelly.
A frightening look of pure anger tightened his lazy expression. His lips hardened into a thin line.
“I have struck a chord, have I?” Good . She was glad for her tongue’s accurate marksmanship. “Perhaps you’re only too aware that you’re old enough to be her father.” May wasn’t certain of the fact. She knew that Evers had passed his thirtieth year. For how many years, she could not guess.
“My age?” His grim expression relaxed. “You think my age frightens her as thoroughly as Mr. Tumblestone’s frightens you?” He laughed then, a low sound that rumbled in his throat. “You’ve overlooked one important fact, my pretty thief. I am a man in my prime. A man with lustful needs.”
May didn’t trust the wolfish gleam that suddenly brightened his eyes or the deepening pitch of his voice. She had read stories about men being transformed into beasts by the sight of a full moon. The situation coupled with an inordinate amount of moonlight pouring through the window was enough to make her wary.
A single woman should never be caught alone with a man, especially in an unlit room. Such an oversight in propriety could leave her reputation in tatters.
“My lord,” she whispered as he leaned forward, closing the gap between them. The pure scent of him, a refreshing blend of cheroot and vanilla, left her senses reeling.
He peeled off a glove. The rough pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip. She gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her mind could barely form a protest before his head dipped down and his lips captured hers.
At first, shock paralyzed her. She couldn’t pull away even if she had wanted to. Then, a deep heat rose up from low in her belly, melting her resolve . . . washing away any warring thoughts. She pressed her hand against his chest, thrilling in the raw
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