Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] by To Capture a Rake

Drowsy and confused, she didn’t dare stir, not even when he sat up and moved across the room, picking up a clean washing cloth. Her body no longer felt her own. He was back and leaning over her before she could realize his intention.
    Elizabeth stiffened. “What…”
    In a no-nonsense manner, he swiped her thighs clean. When his hand traveled up her legs and the cold, wet cloth touched her throbbing folds, she couldn’t prevent the moan from slipping from her lips.
    He didn’t respond to her obvious reaction but merely tossed the washing cloth to the tub and laid back, his hands stacked under his head, merely a gent relaxing.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    “You paid me, there’s no need for a thanks.”
    He was cold, the man who had stroked her so gently gone. His words made her cringe, but she pushed the regret aside. It hadn’t been what men wrote poetry about. No, it had been animalistic, sinful. But it was done, and she was relieved and she owed him so much more than he realized. Elizabeth rolled onto her side, her back to Gideon.
    She had to remind herself that everything was coming together rather well indeed.
    Now, if only she could do the impossible and make Gideon fall in love with her.

Chapter 6
    He was a bastard, an arrogant bastard who was concerned with no one but himself. It was the truth, and it was no secret, for he’d readily admit it to anyone who asked. He’d worn it like a badge of honor. It was how he had been for over fourteen years now, how he’d always thought he would be. How he wanted to be, how
needed
to be.
    Yet, as he sat in the hired carriage across from Elizabeth, he felt an unfamiliar, incredibly uncomfortable feeling that he hadn’t experienced in some time. A feeling he thought long dead. A feeling he didn’t care for at all.
    Guilt.
    Even as he told himself to ignore her, Gideon’s gaze was drawn to Elizabeth. He couldn’t help but notice that she looked pale, almost small as she sat curled across from him in the corner of the carriage, her attention pinned to the scenery outside. A place of rolling green hills and brilliant blue skies. A world so close tothe Irish Sea that he could practically taste freedom. But instead of thinking about escape, he was thinking about her. Even with the smudges of exhaustion underneath her eyes, the worn dress from a serving wench covering her body, she was beautiful.
    A cool morning breeze fluttered the curtains. His clothing was still damp, the serving wench having been unable to find shirtsleeves and trousers in his size. But he didn’t mind the chill material, for his heated body would dry them soon enough, and blast it all but he seemed afire since that first kiss in Lady Lavender’s parlor. Not even last night had sated his need.
    “Are you cold?” The words left his mouth before he’d had a chance to rein them in. She looked as startled as he felt. Christ, he was losing his bleeding mind. Since when did he care about a woman’s comforts or lack thereof?
    “No.” She watched him warily, as if she didn’t trust his kindness. Smart lass. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
    Her polite façade was driving him mad. He was a whore, nothing more than that. He provided a service, one that he did rather well. And at the end of the day, the client would return home. He might see her again, he might not. But once that woman left his bedchamber, she was no longer something he needed to think about. For years he’d been able to avoid any sort of emotional entanglement, just as he’d wished. How it should be.
    Annoyed, he found his attention sliding to her once more. She wore no gloves, and her small, pale hands were clutched tightly in the lap of her serviceable brown gown. Fingers that had grasped his shoulders last night, traveled down his body and urged him for more. How could this meek woman have been so passionate? He tore his gaze from her hands and traveled up the bodice of her gown. A gown with a neckline so low she looked the