Eugie had once more been absent from breakfast. How was he to induce her to give him another chance when he could not find her?
“You will have to persuade her,” he told Aylesford.
“Of course I will,” the viscount agreed. “But I do not know how.”
He was not alone in that sentiment. Cam frowned. “Perhaps you could convince her using the same methods you have employed with others. How do you woo a woman into becoming your mistress, for instance?”
“I have but to look at women and they leap into my bed by the legions,” his friend drawled.
Damn Aylesford and his sarcastic wit. “What an extraordinary talent to have,” he returned.
“Don’t be daft, Hertford.” Aylesford gave him a look. “I give them gifts. Baubles. Pay them attention. Smile at them. Nibble at their necks in darkened alcoves. That sort of thing.”
“It sounds as if you have been reading Minerva press books.” He grinned. “Little wonder you are not having any luck with convincing Miss Winter to be your pretend betrothed.”
“Go to the devil,” Aylesford told him without heat.
“I rather suspect I already have,” he said grimly, thinking of what he had done. How far he had allowed himself to go beyond the bounds of propriety.
He had to make this right.
Somehow.
But first, he had to find Eugie.
“The Prince of Proper?” Aylesford raised a brow. “What could you possibly do that would land you in eternal damnation?”
Kiss an unwed lady senseless in a dark hall. Take her into his chamber. Strip off her dressing gown and night rail…
From there, he had to stop his thoughts.
Because they were decidedly wicked. And wrong. And it was a hell of a thing to sport an erection whilst one was riding a horse with Viscount Aylesford as company.
“All manner of sins,” was all he said.
But he was going to atone.
And to do so, it was becoming apparent to him he had only one choice: sneak into Eugie’s chamber and confront her, face-to-face.
Chapter Nine
His tongue wasin her mouth, and his hands were traveling all over her body. Cupping her breasts, playing with her nipples until they hardened into distended peaks. Lower, following the curve of her waist down to her hips. And then, his fingers touched her. Where she was wet for him, throbbing for him, aching for him.
She moaned into his kiss, writhing against him.
This was all wrong.
Hewas all wrong.
And yet, she never wanted it to end.
A decadent spiral of desire was twisting through her, making her every sense more potent and powerful. He worked over her flesh harder. Faster.
But still it was not enough. She wanted more…
“Eugie.”
“Go away,” she muttered, half-asleep, trying to get back to the place she had been, on the brink of the most delirious, mind-shattering climax.
