Dark Fires by Brenda Joyce

faced with temptation such as you offered, his needs will be more enthusiastic than his common sense. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.” She understood—she understood that now she had a chance.
    He breathed a sigh of relief. He kept his regard carefully trained above her collar. “Supper is at eight.”
    Jane started. He was expecting her to dine with him. This was a far cry from his attitude when she had first arrived. Everything was a far cry from her arrival a few days past. She hid a smile. Maybe he didn’t just expect her presence at his table, maybe he actually wanted it. There was one problem, and gracelessly she blurted, “What about Amelia?”
    “Amelia is gone.”
    Their glances met, hers wide and elated, his hooded and unreadable.
    Jane nearly skipped from the room.
    The earl made a dashing figure in black trousers and silver waistcoat. He had not bothered to don a jacket, but Jane admired him just the same. He paused in the midst of a mouthful to meet her bold stare. Jane smiled. “You look very handsome tonight.”
    He choked.
    Alarmed, Jane jumped up and began pounding his back. Outside, the hounds were baying. The earl reached for his water glass, Jane kept hitting him. The water spilled over his wrist. “Ooh!” Jane cried, ceasing to pound him. But her hand lingered upon his back, and she was standing so close to him her dress touched his left thigh. That was how the Earl of Raversford found them.
    “Hullo, Shelton,” he said cheerfully, walking in unannounced. He froze, taking in the scenario. “Well, what have we here?” He grinned.
    Jane realized the impropriety of the moment and returned to her chair, her cheeks burning. The dark blond was regarding her openly, his handsome face admiring. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Shelton?” He grinned again.
    The earl rose. “Damn it, Lindley, I forgot you were coming.”
    “I can see why.” Jonathon Lindley’s brown eyes were dancing. “I’d forget my own last name if I had her.”
    Annoyance flickered on the earl’s face. “This is my ward. The Duke of Clarendon’s granddaughter.”
    Jane stood to curtsy.
    “I didn’t know old Weston had any heirs other than Chad,” Lindley exclaimed. The earl made no comment. “Hullo.” He took Jane’s hand, bowing over it and kissing it. His mouth wasn’t supposed to touch her skin—but it did.
    She yanked her hand back as if it’d been burned.
    Lindley smiled, but the earl’s face grew tight. “Cut it out, Lindley,” he warned. “She’s seventeen.”
    “And private property?” Lindley turned to see the earl’s black expression. He held up a hand. “Just kidding,” he said somberly. His eyes were quizzical.
    “You did not see what you think you saw,” Nick explained stiffly. “I was—er—choking.”
    Lindley raised a brow.
    “I was pounding his back,” Jane admitted.
    “Of course,” Lindley said. He seemed to doubt them.
    Thomas was setting another place. Lindley grinned affably at the earl. “Does this mean you have also forgotten the race this weekend?”
    Nick scowled. He hadn’t forgotten that he had intended to race his stallion No Regrets this Sunday. He had just put off the decision he was now making. “No. Damn it, Lindley, I meant to send you a message. Somehow it escaped me. I can’t get away this weekend.”
    Lindley chuckled. “Of course not. I wouldn’t budge either, if I were you.”
    “What in hell does that mean!”
    “Easy, old man, don’t take offense. Why don’t we sit? Something smells awfully good.” He smiled at Jane. “It seems I’m in the nick of time.” His smile widened as he glanced at the earl.
    Nick caught his meaning and shot his friend a warning look, which did not seem to affect Lindley at all. After they were all seated and Lindley served, the handsome peer turned to Jane. “So tell me,” he said amiably. “However did you arrive here?”
    The earl leaned back on the big, maroon sofa in the drawing room, legs sprawled