hands.
She’d known it when she dressed for the ball that evening. She hadn’t intended to entice anyone specific, but only to feel desirable. To feel like a woman after being a widow for so long. To fill that aching hollow Jeremy’s betrayal had left behind.
“Angelstone.” She said it softly, so that he was compelled to look at her face. Calmly, to hide the churning inside her. Desire twined with loss. Lust merged with the need to belong. The smile she sent him was full of invitation, the finger flicking at her bodice a deliberate temptation. “Are you ready to dance?”
His eyes went dark. Jaw clenched. A quick indrawn breath rippled the air.
And then she
was
desirable.
“Indeed?” she mused aloud. He had seemed difficult to read, his thoughts hidden behind a wall of charm and the impassive mask of a spy. Apparently he had lost his ability to hide his thoughts. Desire was something she recognized plainly enough, and it sent a wicked thrill singing through her. It was good to feel that way again, however fleeting.
It wasn’t the brandy that caused the reciprocating desire coursing through her. She’d found him attractive before. The brandy only stripped away her better judgment. Falling in lust with Angelstone—a spy—would be the height of folly.
At the moment, it seemed the most reasonable thing in the world.
“Do you know the worst part of this entire situation?” After setting down her glass she moved slowly forward, watching him watch her.
“I can’t imagine.” Tawny eyes gleamed, stalking her every move.
“I spent six years of my life making love to a man, and I barely knew him. I don’t know if his love for me—his
desire
for me—was real or an act.” She couldn’t move backward in time to find out. But she could move forward. She
needed
to move forward. She needed to erase six years of uncertainty. Angelstone was just the man to do it.
“It would be a mistake.” He pushed his chair back from the desk, but didn’t stand. His eyes held no shock, only intense focus. His gaze skimmed over her breasts, down her hips, then back up to her face.
Heat swirled in her, rising up and sending her blood pumping. “Yes. It would be a mistake.” She didn’t care just now.
She came around the desk to stand in front of him, settling herself just beyond his reach. Her eyes followed the long line of his body, appreciating the glory of lean muscle and strength. He was relaxed in the chair, a little slouched, legs outstretched, his fingers playing idly with the chair arms. His cravat had gone the way of the gloves at some point and his collar lay open, exposing the hollow of his throat. She imagined pressing her lips there, where his pulse beat.
The brandy swirled in her head, in her heart, in her loins. She was hungry for love. Hungry for something she could pretend was love, even for a short time. And she was no longer married. There was nothing holding her back but loyalty to the dead husband who had lied to her.
So she sent him a long, slow smile and stepped between his knees. Her skirts brushed against his breeches, then her leg bumped against his. Even that small contact sent a jolt through her.
“Are you seducing me, Lilias?” His deep baritone slid along her senses. He looked up at her through his lashes.
“I am. What say you, Angelstone?”
Chapter 12
H IS JAW WORKED once before his eyes fell to her lips. Held there. He did not speak, but she could see he was weighing his decision.
It is only sex
, she wanted to say.
Nothing more.
She would not let it be anything more. But she did not say the words. She could only will him to give her the elusive something she craved.
Then his legs opened wide, making room for her between his muscled thighs. The breath she’d been holding sighed out of her in a delighted exhale.
“I would say that’s answer enough.” She laughed, light and low, as a thrill stole through her veins. “We’ll both regret this tomorrow, Angelstone, won’t
She’d known it when she dressed for the ball that evening. She hadn’t intended to entice anyone specific, but only to feel desirable. To feel like a woman after being a widow for so long. To fill that aching hollow Jeremy’s betrayal had left behind.
“Angelstone.” She said it softly, so that he was compelled to look at her face. Calmly, to hide the churning inside her. Desire twined with loss. Lust merged with the need to belong. The smile she sent him was full of invitation, the finger flicking at her bodice a deliberate temptation. “Are you ready to dance?”
His eyes went dark. Jaw clenched. A quick indrawn breath rippled the air.
And then she
was
desirable.
“Indeed?” she mused aloud. He had seemed difficult to read, his thoughts hidden behind a wall of charm and the impassive mask of a spy. Apparently he had lost his ability to hide his thoughts. Desire was something she recognized plainly enough, and it sent a wicked thrill singing through her. It was good to feel that way again, however fleeting.
It wasn’t the brandy that caused the reciprocating desire coursing through her. She’d found him attractive before. The brandy only stripped away her better judgment. Falling in lust with Angelstone—a spy—would be the height of folly.
At the moment, it seemed the most reasonable thing in the world.
“Do you know the worst part of this entire situation?” After setting down her glass she moved slowly forward, watching him watch her.
“I can’t imagine.” Tawny eyes gleamed, stalking her every move.
“I spent six years of my life making love to a man, and I barely knew him. I don’t know if his love for me—his
desire
for me—was real or an act.” She couldn’t move backward in time to find out. But she could move forward. She
needed
to move forward. She needed to erase six years of uncertainty. Angelstone was just the man to do it.
“It would be a mistake.” He pushed his chair back from the desk, but didn’t stand. His eyes held no shock, only intense focus. His gaze skimmed over her breasts, down her hips, then back up to her face.
Heat swirled in her, rising up and sending her blood pumping. “Yes. It would be a mistake.” She didn’t care just now.
She came around the desk to stand in front of him, settling herself just beyond his reach. Her eyes followed the long line of his body, appreciating the glory of lean muscle and strength. He was relaxed in the chair, a little slouched, legs outstretched, his fingers playing idly with the chair arms. His cravat had gone the way of the gloves at some point and his collar lay open, exposing the hollow of his throat. She imagined pressing her lips there, where his pulse beat.
The brandy swirled in her head, in her heart, in her loins. She was hungry for love. Hungry for something she could pretend was love, even for a short time. And she was no longer married. There was nothing holding her back but loyalty to the dead husband who had lied to her.
So she sent him a long, slow smile and stepped between his knees. Her skirts brushed against his breeches, then her leg bumped against his. Even that small contact sent a jolt through her.
“Are you seducing me, Lilias?” His deep baritone slid along her senses. He looked up at her through his lashes.
“I am. What say you, Angelstone?”
Chapter 12
H IS JAW WORKED once before his eyes fell to her lips. Held there. He did not speak, but she could see he was weighing his decision.
It is only sex
, she wanted to say.
Nothing more.
She would not let it be anything more. But she did not say the words. She could only will him to give her the elusive something she craved.
Then his legs opened wide, making room for her between his muscled thighs. The breath she’d been holding sighed out of her in a delighted exhale.
“I would say that’s answer enough.” She laughed, light and low, as a thrill stole through her veins. “We’ll both regret this tomorrow, Angelstone, won’t
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