“Oh my,” she said in surprise. “Have you really been all those places?”
He smiled. “Yes. Since I was ten years old, I have been driven to explore—first the area around my home, then farther and farther away. It is a thrill beyond compare to see the glorious variety of people and creatures around the world.”
“I can only imagine.” That was true. Cunningham had dragged her away to Scotland, but not to Edinburgh or even Glasgow; he’d taken her to his old and drafty fishing lodge. Court had never stirred from London. But she’d read about such places in books and magazines—stories likely written by people like him, she realized—and they sounded amazing.
He had been running one finger along her collarbone, and now he pressed a kiss to her jaw. “I will listen to you as well. You intrigue me. I want to learn everything about you.”
Court had said such rubbish, when he wanted to get under her skirts. It was a little unnerving that Sir Richard said itafterhe’d achieved that, but no less reliable.
“Goodness,” she said with a forced laugh, still striving to brush off the whole thing. “Of course you don’t.”
“I do,” he said calmly. “I know you are a widow, with no husband to make jealous. I know you are beautiful and sensuous, and also independent and clever and good-hearted.”
“I—what?” She was disconcerted by his words.
He nodded. “Allen told me you are a widow. Naturally I asked him, because I was fascinated by you the moment we met. The rest, I saw for myself.”
Good Lord. Allen would have told him she was scandalous and evil, a wanton widow with a large fortune, courtesy of two prematurely dead husbands. Suddenly Evangeline wondered if Allen had encouraged Sir Richard to seduce her, with an eye ongetting her to financially support his travels. She wouldn’t put it past that man.
Again she made herself laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m much too old to fascinate you! How old can you even be?”
“Two and thirty,” he said, jarringly. He was ten years her junior.An entire decade. She’d been married before he was out of short pants.
She didn’t want to hear more. She didn’t want to argue, or talk at all. With a sudden motion, she pushed him over and sat atop him, straddling his hips. “I must take advantage of such rash, impetuous youth.”
“I—I accept,” he gasped as she took him firmly in hand. He was already swelling again, growing hard and ready.
This was all she wanted from him, she told herself as she moved above him, reveling in the touch of his hands on her skin, in the concentrated desire in his face, in the exquisite pleasure he wrung from her body. This time she made love to him until he could barely speak, holding down his arms and staving off her own climax until he was thrashing beneath her, begging to touch her in a jangle of English and German. When she relented, he returned the torture until she gasped in release.
He pulled her into his embrace and mumbled something against her shoulder as he fell asleep. Evangeline gave in to temptation and rested against him for a while, savoring his close embrace, his body warm against hers and his hair soft against her cheek.
But when she heard a distant clock strike three in the morning, and his breathing was slow and deep, she slipped out of bed and left, determined to end things her way.
Chapter 3
Richard Campion awoke in an unfamiliar bed surrounded by an unfamiliar perfume. It took him only a moment to remember whose it was and how he’d got there. He rolled over and buried his face in a pillow, inhaling deeply.Evangeline. Even her name hinted at the almost-religious fervor she’d stoked in him.
Never in his life had he been so struck by a woman. She was tall—perhaps that was it? She’d looked him straight in the eye when she invited him to come with her, right then, walking out of Lord Allen’s ball where he was a guest of honor. And he’d done it: gone without a single thought for his host or the guests who were waiting to speak to him or even for his companions, who had presumably stayed at the ball and wondered at his disappearance.
But no; it was not just Evangeline’s stature. She was beautiful. Magnificent. Mischievous dark eyes that sparkled with some private amusement. Dark hair that looked darker still against her bare skin when it fell to her waist. Lush, generous curves that made him want her the moment he laid eyes on her. A full, soft mouth that mesmerized him whether she was tellinghim to take off his clothes or whispering that she was too old for him.
He had been in London for over three months now. How had he never met her before last night? Every other ball his sister Clemency had begged him to attend had been dull and ordinary. If he had known England contained a woman like her, he would have given in to his sister’s pleading and gone to parties much sooner.
He bounded out of bed and threw open the drapes so he could find his clothes. He had to see her again—although first he had to find her. He shook his head at himself; he had slept much too late, and too deeply, if he hadn’t heard her rise. She must be downstairs at breakfast.
All thought of his impending journey to the steppes vanished from his brain. All desire to see the yaks and yurts of Mongolia was gone. He had the clarity of a man who had just seen a holy vision and meant to devote his life to worshipping it.
There was a tap on the door when he’d got his clothes turned right side out and back on. “Ja!” he barked, buttoning his breeches. “Come!”
The man who had admitted them the previous evening came in, a tray in his hands. “Good morning, sir. I’ve brought coffee, tea, and the morning papers, if you care for them.” He set it down on the dressing table.
“No, I don’t,” he said as he pulled on his waistcoat, which looked as though a wagon had run over it. Karl would be appalled, as it was his one fine suit of clothing. “Where is Lady...” He blanked on her title for a moment;Evangeline,was all he could think. “Lady Courtenay?”
“She has left, sir, but she bade me make you at ease. She expresses her regret that she cannot see you off and wishes you a safe and rewarding journey.”
He froze, hands on his buttons. “Gone? When did she leave?” It was still early. His sister, Clemency, rarely rose before noon the day after a ball. And Evangeline had spent half the night making energetic and uninhibited love. He’d heard the clocks chime two in the morning.
“Yes, sir.” The butler poured a cup of coffee, expression serene and unreadable. “Is there anything else I can bring you?”
