“Perhaps,” she said to him, “you would care to pay your call on me tonight.” Her heart thudded as she gazed at him. “Perhaps... now.”
His breath caught. His throat worked. “Now,” he repeated.
Feeling like a different—wilder, reckless, lust-crazed—person, Evangeline nodded. “My carriage is outside. Will you come?”
Color rose in his face. “Now?” he asked again in a guttural tone fraught with meaning.
She nodded, meeting his eyes squarely.
“Yes,” he said. “I will.”
Chapter 2
Evangeline, familiar with the Allen house, slipped out the servants’ entrance and made her way to her carriage. She had nearly ten minutes to ponder the madness of what she was doing, feel a sense that she should stop it, and finally revolve back to her initial plan before Campion tapped at the window where she had hung a handkerchief to alert him.
The footman had barely closed the door on them before Sir Richard had her hand in his, his fingers dancing up her wrist as he unbuttoned the glove. He peeled it off as she seized the lapel of his coat and pulled him toward her.
“This is madness,” he whispered as his bare hand wrapped around her neck, turning her face up to his.
“A most delicious madness,” she agreed, before his lips were on hers, his arm around her waist, pulling her across the carriage into his lap as if she were the merest slip of a girl. Evangeline felt delirious as he pushed up her skirts.
“Where are we going?” he asked. She was straddling him on the narrow seat, her arms around his neck, his hand on her bottom, his mouth on her breast.
“A friend’s home,” she said breathlessly. “There’s plenty of time to make your escape...”
“Escape?” He raised his head. Even in the dim light of the single lamp, she could see the blue of his eyes. He pushed one hand up her thigh, his palm hot. “I have no wish to escape any moment you will grant me.”
His accent had grown stronger, his words tighter clipped. With her skirts up around her thighs, Evangeline could feel how aroused he was—nearly as much as she was, she realized with a shudder.
“In that case,” she whispered, winding his sandy hair around her fingers until she could tug his head back. “You will be mine until morning.” She bent her head and sucked at the skin of his neck, gratified by the tremor that went through him.
When the carriage reached Fanny’s home, she recovered herself in time to step down from the carriage calmly, grateful for the darkness that hid her flush. She was a frequent guest at Fanny’s home, staying over so often she had a regular room. Brumley, the Woodville butler, barely blinked when he opened the door and beheld them.
“Good evening, Brumley,” she said, holding her head high.
“Good evening, my lady,” he replied, taking her wrap, then Sir Richard’s coat and hat. The explorer appeared a bit wary now, waiting for her. “May I bring you anything?”
Evangeline smoothed her hands down her skirt. Goodness, what should she do? She had no idea how seductions were managed. She had always been the one pursued, never the pursuer. “Brandy, if you please.”
The butler bowed and she headed for Fanny’s elegant drawing room. Brumley was taking this all very much in stride, and she wondered how many times Fanny had lent friends her home for secret assignations.
Sir Richard followed, closing the door behind him, but when Evangeline faced him she could see that his mind, at least, had cooled and resumed some sensibility.
“Where—?” he began, but she stopped him, pressing her fingers to his lips.
“This is my friend’s home,” she said. “I am a frequent guest. There is nothing amiss.”
He eyed her, his pulse throbbing rapidly but his gaze alert. “No? You have done this often?”
She gave a nervous little laugh. “No, never.” She fingered the lower button of his waistcoat. “But I want it tonight. I wantyoutonight.”
He blinked a few times. “My lady . . .”
“My name is Evangeline,” she whispered, sliding the button loose and letting her fingers graze his stomach—flat, firm, the muscle leaping at her touch.
“Evangeline,” he breathed, his hands brushing her shoulders, only to jerk away as the door opened.
“Brandy, my lady,” said Brumley blandly, setting down his tray without meeting anyone’s eyes. “Will there be anything else?”
