Charlotte gasped as the room tilted beneath her.
‘Put me down this instant!’ she demanded, pummelling his back and kicking furiously.
He ignored her struggles entirely, though she felt his arm tighten each time she fought him.
And then, most disastrously of all, she became acutely aware of everything.
The steady rhythm of his breathing.
The warmth radiating through him.
The powerful shift of muscle beneath her.
One arm remained firmly locked about her legs whilst the other steadied her against his shoulder, each stride pressing her more fully against him.
To her utter mortification, her struggles gradually weakened as her traitorous body softened against him despite every frantic effort to resist.
Opening a nearby door, he strode inside and shut it behind them with his foot before carrying her straight into his bedchamber.
Charlotte barely had time to comprehend where they were before he lowered her onto the bed.
For one perilous moment, neither of them moved.
Lord Stanley stepped back, yet she could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering through the fabric of her gown.
Her pulse fluttered wildly.
And suddenly, horrifyingly, she became aware that his breathing no longer sounded entirely steady either.
He abruptly turned away and dragged a hand through his already disordered hair. By the time he turned back towards her, his expression had settled once more into lazy amusement.
Leaning casually against the wall, he gave a low, humourless laugh. ‘You seem to have acquired a second occupation, Miss Lucas. Does a governess’s salary fail to satisfy?’
Charlotte gaped at him.
Then immediately made for the door.
He blocked her path at once.
‘Not so fast, my dear.’
She retreated further into the shadows of the room. She would not surrender without a fight.
Spotting another fire poker beside the fireplace, she snatched it up and pointed it directly at him.
‘Stay back, my lord, or I will skewer you as well.’
To her outrage, he chuckled.
Then, very steadily, he crossed the room and lit the candles one by one.
‘What exactly do you intend to do after you skewer me?’ The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. ‘You may lower the weapon. I have no intention of hurting you.’
Before she could react, he stepped towards her and gently took hold of the hand clutching the poker.
‘Like this,’ he murmured, adjusting her grip. ‘If you hold it properly, no one can easily wrest it from you.’
Then, taking her wrist, he guided the movement sharply sideways.
