Along with a renewed surge of desire.
Surely his eyes were deceiving him. Prim and proper Miss Prudence Winter, unmarried, innocent lady who spouted off about foundling hospitals, would not be readingThe Tale of Love. Would she?
The series of books had recently been published to great scandal. They were bawdy and wickedly descriptive. Illustrated with explicit engravings of sexual acts. Acts no innocent should see.
But the innocent lady in question was hastier than he was. She snatched the volume from the floor and snapped it closed before he could confirm it was indeed an engraving of a man performing cunnilingus.
There were, however, certain sights a man could recognize from across a bloody chamber. Coitus of any sort was one of them, even if it was represented in black and white engravings upon a leather-bound page.
She held the volume to her breast in a protective gesture as she rose to her feet once more. The pink in her cheeks, already present from their shared kisses, blossomed to an even deeper shade.
He rose to his full height, towering over her, the taste of her on his lips. That mouth of hers still called to him, and he could not help but think of all the filthy things he could do with it. To it. Slide his—
Nay.
He banished the thought.
Think of the book, he told himself.Think of Gill. Think of all the estates which will fall into further ruin and be sold off if Gill does not acquire his wealthy Winter bride.
And then, a new emotion hit him. Outrage. His brother deserved better in his duchess than a woman who would allow his own brother to kiss her. A woman who was, even now, likely in possession of one of the filthiest books printed in the English language.
“Tell me, Miss Winter,” he said cuttingly, “is reading bawdy literature a part of proper courting?”
Her cheeks went ashen, her knuckles going white over the book. How he wished he could see the cover, but she was doing a fair job of denying him any telling view.
“It most certainly is not, Lord Ashley,” she snapped, finding her voice at last. “Nor is forcing kisses upon the ladies you are intending to court.”
Forcingkisses?
Oh, no she had not.
“I believe I must have misheard you, Miss Winter,” he said, warning in his tone.
He was Lord Ashley Rawdon. He did not force ladies into anything. Nor did he have to. Ladies fell into his lap and into his bed and onto his cock quite of their own free will, and with regularity, too.
“You heard me correctly,” she said, chin going up, her countenance suddenly one of supreme defiance. “If you think I wanted you to kiss me, or if you think I liked it, you are wholeheartedly wrong. Rakes do not impress me, Lord Ashley. They never have.”
Before he could say another word to that, the door to the salon swept open, and there stood none other than his brother.Oh, hell.This had just gone from bad to abominable with all haste.
Pru heldTheTale of Loveto her as if it were a shield as she stared between Lord Ashley and the Duke of Coventry. Had they planned this? Surely not, for if Lord Ashley was indeed attempting to investigate the merit of possible brides for his brother, why would he go about kissing them himself first?
And the duke looked shocked to find the chamber inhabited.
When his gaze lit upon Lord Ashley and Pru, he bowed elegantly, but said nothing.
It was the treatment Pru had come to expect from Coventry. She did not think she had seen him speak more than ten words since his arrival at Abingdon Hall.
“Coventry,” said Lord Ashley, bowing back at his brother as if he had not just destroyed Pru with those kisses, only to treat her with such icy scorn.
A contradiction, this man. He kissed her with fire and passion, kindling the spark within her into an uncontrollable flame, and then simply stopped. It was as if she had seen two versions of him. Both left her reeling and unsure of herself.
She dipped into a curtsy, her ears going hot. “Your Grace.”
Coventry did not meet her gaze. Instead, he appeared frozen. He was stiff, his countenance pale. She wondered if it was because of the shocking disregard for propriety she and Lord Ashley had evinced, alone together in the salon, unchaperoned.
And then she wondered if perhaps he had been a witness to the kiss.
Lord Ashley was striding to his brother’s side, his countenance etched with worry. “Gill?” he said quietly. “What is it?”
