A Scoundrel by Moonlight by Anna Campbell Page B

she’d been aware of the marquess’s rumbling responses. It was impossible not to remember that voice softening to black velvet. She was damned. Because however she despised her weakness, she couldn’t bring herself to despise what he’d done to her. And deep, deep in her sinful soul, in a place that would never see the light of day, she regretted that he’d stopped.
    More than confusion and self-hatred had kept her awake all night. There had been a humiliating dose of frustration too. Leath had readied her body for pleasure, then stoppedbefore all those wonderful, unprecedented, astonishing feelings reached their unknown culmination.
    “No matter.” The marchioness smiled fondly. “I’ll write to Sophie and make some suggestions before she goes on her headstrong way.”
    Guiltily Nell wondered if her ladyship would smile fondly after she knew about last night. Nell was amazed that Leath hadn’t denounced her the moment she arrived, but after that one breathtaking glance, he hadn’t paid her a scrap of notice.
    “She’s certainly headstrong,” Leath said, and Nell noted the affection in his beautiful voice.
    “Your sober ways clearly had little influence, James.”
    Such remarks only added to Nell’s perplexity. The marchioness, who was no fool, seemed convinced that Leath was a pattern card of behavior. Nell was sick of struggling to fathom the man’s character. He was a complete enigma.
    An enigma who kissed like an angel.
    “Not for want of trying,” he said cheerfully.
    “You must admit she’s settled down since marrying Harry.”
    Leath’s laugh was wry. “To my surprise.”
    “After a scandalous beginning, they’ve gone on very well.”
    “I’m not arguing, Mamma.”
    Nell stared at Leath. Could a man so attentive to his invalid mother treat his paramours with such indifference? Last night he could have thrown Nell down and taken her. Yet he’d been gentle, allowing for her fears. Was that just a rake’s stratagem to ensure a willing partner?
    “Nor are you agreeing,” the marchioness said drily.
    “I’ll agree that my sister’s rash marriage isn’t the disaster I predicted.”
    “James, you’re a devil,” his mother said with a laugh. “Just admit that you were wrong.”
    Had he forgotten Nell’s presence? She’d never heard him speak so frankly on family matters, although the dramatic events leading to his sister’s marriage were no secret. The newspapers had been full of the elopement of pretty, rich Sophie Fairbrother with impecunious younger son Harry Thorne, the Duchess of Sedgemoor’s dissolute brother.
    Leath arched his marked black eyebrows, a smile hovering around his lips. Traitorous heat rippled through Nell. He looked dangerously attractive as he teased her ladyship. “My dear mother, I’m never wrong.”
    His mother laughed again and caught his hand. “Of course not, darling.”
    “I’ll come and have luncheon with you, shall I?”
    He raised his mother’s hand to his lips and kissed it with a respect that set that forbidden corner of Nell’s soul aching with longing. And bafflement. What was true? Dorothy’s accusations? The man Nell came to know? The way she felt when she saw him?
    She was only certain of one thing. Right now, the prospect of leaving the marchioness and, God forgive her, the marquess pummeled her heart with misery.
    “That would be lovely.” Pleasure rang in Lady Leath’s voice.
    He stood. “I’ll see you later.”
    Nell braced for him to insist on dismissing the wanton Miss Trim. Surely he wouldn’t leave his mother in a Jezebel’s clutches. Her hands closed in her skirts and she stared at him so hard that he ought to burst into flame.
    He nodded in her direction without looking at her. “Miss Trim.”
    Then he was gone.
    Nell felt as if he left her dangling from a wire high above an abyss. What cruel game was he playing?
    After two days, Nell was in such a state that she jumped at every sound. This was like waiting for an ax to