Read Online To Wed a Wicked Earl by Olivia Parker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Olivia Parker
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one.
“No,” he said, watching Charlotte closely.
What would she do, what would she say, he wondered, if she knew the only reason he still pretended to want Rosalind was to be close to Charlotte? She considered him her little project, and it unearthed a buried self-confidence, something he doubted she would have ever thought she possessed. Something that attracted him to her like a beacon. As if he needed more encouragement.
She thought she was helping him, when in fact, she was wasting her time. Oh, he knew that pretending he was still infatuated with Rosalind just to be close to Charlotte was a tad underhanded, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, being underhanded was his specialty.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I have another idea.”
“I’m not worried,” he said with a shrug.
But she should be.
He had warned her that day at Wolverest that women and men could not be merely friends, that one day one of them would undoubtedly desire the other. Of course, he left out that he was already at that point and beyond.
However, he knew nothing would ever come of their relationship, other than being friends. Nothing more. Surely, his feelings would fade away…eventually. And he would try to behave until then. No matter how painful it was becoming.
And no matter how many times he told her that she shouldn’t trust him, she kept insisting that she could. He wanted to believe her. Her faith in him was endearing however wholly misplaced.
Tonight she crossed a line; she broke an unwritten rule by coming to his bedchamber in the dead of night.
“I must say,” he said, his words tight, “I am astounded by your behavior this evening.”
And he should really set her straight before she got herself in trouble. He doubted he could keep taking refuge in his imagination…The more he denied himself, the more detailed his thoughts became.
On a number of occasions, as she prattled on about some silly hat she intended to redo or whatever it was that women did to their bonnets to improve them, he found himself imagining her perched upon his lap, wearing those spectacles of course…and stockings and nothing else.
Damn. Must his mind veer off wickedly at every turn? He was truly disgusted with his lack of discipline. Apparently, his thought pattern was identical to that of a farm animal.
Thankfully, she had no idea of the wicked thoughts churning about his depraved mind, which was a good thing. A great thing. For if she knew, she just might stride right out of his life.
He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking his rambling thoughts. “I must ask…You are known for your timidity, tripping over your words or unable to utter a syllable around men. However, you have never been so with me. Why?”
He knew the answer, but asked her just the same. It was because she had Absolutely No Romantic Interest in him.
She looked surprised by his question, but soon recovered. “Well, I suppose it is because I feel safe with you. Though I realize how absurd that sounds, for you come from a long line of scoundrels. But the truth is, I know you want someone else, and have for a very long time. And even before Lady Rosalind, you had asked my friend Madelyn to be your bride, or was it your mistress? I cannot recall.” She gave her head a shake. “Either way. You are a direct sort. If you had entertained any desire for me at all, I reckon I would have known about it an age ago. Ravished in some garden or other.” She paused, giving in to a quiet, husky laugh.
It amazed him that she had no apparent idea just how provocative she sounded. And Lord, but did she have him all wrong.
“Can you imagine?” she asked through her laughter. “You and I? In a garden…in some passionate…embrace?” Her words slowed and sobered as she went on. Was she imagining it?
Hell yes, he could imagine it. And had. Numerous times.
“Come here,” he said, more to see what she would do than due to a real plan.
After a brief
“No,” he said, watching Charlotte closely.
What would she do, what would she say, he wondered, if she knew the only reason he still pretended to want Rosalind was to be close to Charlotte? She considered him her little project, and it unearthed a buried self-confidence, something he doubted she would have ever thought she possessed. Something that attracted him to her like a beacon. As if he needed more encouragement.
She thought she was helping him, when in fact, she was wasting her time. Oh, he knew that pretending he was still infatuated with Rosalind just to be close to Charlotte was a tad underhanded, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, being underhanded was his specialty.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I have another idea.”
“I’m not worried,” he said with a shrug.
But she should be.
He had warned her that day at Wolverest that women and men could not be merely friends, that one day one of them would undoubtedly desire the other. Of course, he left out that he was already at that point and beyond.
However, he knew nothing would ever come of their relationship, other than being friends. Nothing more. Surely, his feelings would fade away…eventually. And he would try to behave until then. No matter how painful it was becoming.
And no matter how many times he told her that she shouldn’t trust him, she kept insisting that she could. He wanted to believe her. Her faith in him was endearing however wholly misplaced.
Tonight she crossed a line; she broke an unwritten rule by coming to his bedchamber in the dead of night.
“I must say,” he said, his words tight, “I am astounded by your behavior this evening.”
And he should really set her straight before she got herself in trouble. He doubted he could keep taking refuge in his imagination…The more he denied himself, the more detailed his thoughts became.
On a number of occasions, as she prattled on about some silly hat she intended to redo or whatever it was that women did to their bonnets to improve them, he found himself imagining her perched upon his lap, wearing those spectacles of course…and stockings and nothing else.
Damn. Must his mind veer off wickedly at every turn? He was truly disgusted with his lack of discipline. Apparently, his thought pattern was identical to that of a farm animal.
Thankfully, she had no idea of the wicked thoughts churning about his depraved mind, which was a good thing. A great thing. For if she knew, she just might stride right out of his life.
He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking his rambling thoughts. “I must ask…You are known for your timidity, tripping over your words or unable to utter a syllable around men. However, you have never been so with me. Why?”
He knew the answer, but asked her just the same. It was because she had Absolutely No Romantic Interest in him.
She looked surprised by his question, but soon recovered. “Well, I suppose it is because I feel safe with you. Though I realize how absurd that sounds, for you come from a long line of scoundrels. But the truth is, I know you want someone else, and have for a very long time. And even before Lady Rosalind, you had asked my friend Madelyn to be your bride, or was it your mistress? I cannot recall.” She gave her head a shake. “Either way. You are a direct sort. If you had entertained any desire for me at all, I reckon I would have known about it an age ago. Ravished in some garden or other.” She paused, giving in to a quiet, husky laugh.
It amazed him that she had no apparent idea just how provocative she sounded. And Lord, but did she have him all wrong.
“Can you imagine?” she asked through her laughter. “You and I? In a garden…in some passionate…embrace?” Her words slowed and sobered as she went on. Was she imagining it?
Hell yes, he could imagine it. And had. Numerous times.
“Come here,” he said, more to see what she would do than due to a real plan.
After a brief
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