Leslie Lafoy by Her Scandalous Marriage

at the doorknob in his hand and debated what to do. And just as she had earlier that evening, she took the decision from him.
    “Please tell me what’s bothering you,” she said softly as she came to stand at his side.
    He didn’t dare look back down at her; his resolve was tattering by the second. Staring straight ahead at the door, he tightened his hold on the knob, deliberately turned it and pushed the panel open, saying crisply, “Good night, Caroline. Pleasant dreams.”
    He had one foot in his room when she caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s been a perfectly lovely evening,” she said, the low volume of her voice doing nothing to disguise the strength of her determination. “Don’t you
dare
spoil it by being imperial.”
    He blinked.
Dare?
Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Pardon?”
    “I don’t much care for Lord Ryland,” she answered, still holding him by the sleeve. “He lacks a sense of humor and goes about making declarations as though what others think or want or feel don’t matter. I much prefer the company of Drayton Mackenzie. He’s an infinitely more attractive man.”
    He couldn’t decide if running away would be an act of cowardice or of wisdom. “He’s not a very restrained fellow, though,” he replied, unable to get his feet to move. “He has a tendency to act before he thinks.”
    “That’s a good part of his appeal.”
    “It also makes him a dangerous man.”
    “Another factor in his favor,” she countered. “Lord Ryland is terribly, terribly boring.”
    Caroline silently sighed in relief as the tension in hisbody eased just as it had in the dining room before their meal. From that experience she knew that he’d come to a decision. She searched his eyes, hoping to see a sign that he might relent and tear down the barriers he’d so suddenly put back up between them.
    “Boring,” he said, cocking a brow. “Ryland’s boring.”
    There was an undercurrent in his voice, a slowly building certainty in his gaze that sent her heartbeat skittering. “Yes, he is,” she said, holding her ground, knowing what she was unleashing. “It would never occur to him to be the least bit honest with anyone about anything. It’s all appearances and façades with him. It’s rather pathetic, actually.”
    He barely nodded and eased the door wider, holding her gaze as he leaned closer and whispered, “Caroline, you’re treading the edge.”
    “I am well aware of that. Honesty cuts both ways and I’m quite willing to take the risk.”
    “Really.” He let go of the doorknob and reached out to slowly trace the curve of her ear with his fingertip. “Do you have any idea of what the risks are?”
    “Yes.” She closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure of his deliberate touch. It had been so very long that she’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to have her senses brimming.
    “Drayton isn’t a very honorable man, you know,” he continued, trailing his fingertip down the curve of her jaw, down her throat and to the swell of her breast. “It’s that lack of restraint of his.”
    And the wine, she knew. How something could make all the world fuzzy while, at the same time, so sweetly sharpen sensation . . . It was marvelous. She might regret it all tomorrow, but tonight she was going to enjoy being a woman.
    “Stop him, Caroline,” he whispered against her ear, slipping his arm around her waist. “Before it’s too late.”
    If he thought advancing the seduction was going to frighten her off, he needed to be informed of just how high the stakes were. She turned into him and slid her hands up the lapels of his jacket. “If he stops, I’ll rip his—”
    Drayton laughed and pivoted, wheeling them both into his room and kicking the door closed behind them. “Unman me,
ma petite,
” he said, grinning down into her upturned face as he skimmed his hands down her back in search of buttons, “and you’ll . . . ”
    The threat was lost, swept aside by the