A Lady's Revenge by Tracey Devlyn Page B

been able to spread them over his pillow, but—
    Dammit. What the hell was he thinking?
    This was Cora. His friend. Someone he had always thought of as a little sister.
    At least, until she turned into a desirable woman when he wasn’t looking.
    The image of Cora in a black mask and scandalous red dress flashed through his mind. The erotic sensations she had stirred in him at the masquerade were definitely not sisterly.
    Nor were his thoughts now. Even in her current damaged state, she called to him. He squeezed his eyes shut while his body waged war with his mind. He needed a distraction, something to occupy his hands, if only for a few minutes.
    He released the back of the seat and stretched his fingers wide to ease the ache caused by his taut grip. Then he bent forward to find a traveling rug beneath the bench, his chest but a hairsbreadth from her cheek. He glanced down. For some inexplicable reason, he yearned to see the image of her resting peacefully in his lap.
    Lingering in such a close position proved fatal.
    Perhaps sensing his warmth, Cora angled her head around to nuzzle the side of her face into his chest. Had she done so an hour ago, her butterfly touch would have barely registered through his thick coat. But he had unbuttoned the garment after the last stop, electing comfort over propriety. Now only a fine layer of silk and linen protected him from her siren’s call. It wasn’t enough.
    His muscles locked, and a flush of heat gripped his body and surged into his groin. His cock hardened, lengthened, until it filled the tight folds of his breeches.
    Oh, dear God. He swallowed hard, fighting back the desire that was eating away at his good intentions.
    Closing his eyes, he indulged the pleasurable sensation a moment longer, suffered its full, glorious effect, and then shifted out from beneath her, replacing his lap with the thick traveling rug.
    With rigid movements, he made his way to the other side of the carriage, his heart pounding in his ears and a strange heat blurring his vision. What was happening to him? How could her innocent touch cause such a visceral reaction?
    Goddammit, he was supposed to be protecting her, not lusting after her like some ravenous cub at the height of his pubescence. Leaning over his knees, he dropped his face into his hands. What kind of monster lusts after a woman who has been abused and misused?
    He peered through his splayed fingers and stared in dismay at the object of his tangled desires; disgust and warmth swirled through his body, neither one gaining the upper hand.
    Jesus, what was wrong with him? The chant continued to echo through his mind when no acceptable answer appeared.
    He would conquer this damned inconvenient attraction. Until Cora could master the panic that gripped her every time she encountered a man’s touch, his desire had no place in their lives.
    Sliding his face deeper into the palms of his hands until his heels pressed hard into his eye sockets, he began a different chant— I will conquer my attraction. I will conquer my attraction. I must.

Eleven
    After sleeping away much of the previous day, Cora looked forward to exploring Guy’s new home and taking in some much-needed fresh air. From her second-floor bedchamber window, she spotted a small, inviting copse of linden and maple trees a short distance away. Far enough from the house to give her neglected muscles a good turn and close enough should she need help. Equipped with a comfortable pair of half boots, she made her way downstairs on slightly shaky legs.
    As she journeyed toward the back door, she took in every morsel of her surroundings. The staircase balustrade sported a beautiful barley-twist design, and the drawing room’s fireplace surround spoke of restrained elegance with its fluted pilasters and marble inserts. Every room was decorated in warm tones and with comfortable, sturdy furniture. Perfect for the new owner.
    While growing up, Guy had visited his elderly aunt quite