Master of Sin by Maggie Robinson

already read and squeeze his exercise ball. Count snowflakes as they swirled by the window. Think of all the inventive ways to fuck Miss Whateverhername-was Peartree. “Nothing is as important as Marc.”
    He rose with her and walked out into the flagstone passage. The wind whistled through the draft under the doorway, chilling the hall so thoroughly he could see his breath. He missed the warmth of his study already and wouldn’t bask long in the body heat of Miss Peartree, who seemed in a rush to get away from him as fast as possible. She hustled up the threadbare stair runner so quickly that her feet got tangled in the hem of her hopeless dress. Before Andrew knew it, she slipped and he was holding her against his chest, struggling not to fall backward onto the flagstones himself. Pain shot through his arm as he steadied them both.
    â€œOh!”
    â€œBe still or we’ll be Jack and Jill, Miss Peartree. I have no wish to break my crown.”
    She smelled of Mrs. MacLaren’s oatmeal soap, clean and comforting. Holding her was like cradling a baby bird, she weighed so little. Like a baby bird, he could feel the thudding of her heart and feel the feathers of her indignation as she sought release. But he couldn’t let her go quite yet.
    â€œMr. Ross!”
    So she had felt his manhood rise despite the swaths of fabric. How could he help himself when an angel fell from heaven into his arms? Sweet-smelling, delicate, delicious. He could do nothing less than cushion her against him, pressing her to his needful body. He’d had no contact with anyone warm and willing in months and months.
    He glanced down—perhaps she was not willing after all. She had her troll face on, her lips turned down in scorn and her golden-brown eyes mere slits. He put a finger to her blushing cheek. “You needn’t look at me like that. I saved your life, you know.”
    â€œLet me go this instant!” Miss Peartree spluttered.
    â€œI want to make sure you’re perfectly all right. Perhaps you twisted an ankle?” Andrew asked hopefully. He would gladly pat her down to her toes to check for any infirmity, get his hands under that dress to touch the electric velvet of her skin.
    â€œMy ankles are no concern of yours.” She struggled against him, causing the most delightful friction. “You’re doing it again .”
    â€œDoing what?”
    â€œ Looking at me!”
    He smiled, completely smitten, helpless to resist her even if she looked like she wanted to skewer him with a hatpin. Thank God she was bare headed, her lovely streaky hair whisper-soft beneath his hand. “Well, I can hardly do anything else. You’re right here. Quite close. Within kissing distance.”
    Miss Peartree’s lips snapped shut and disappeared inward, leaving an angry line on her rosy face. Andrew felt a rather vicious pinch to his midsection and very grudgingly released her.
    â€œYou could say thank you.”
    â€œI could, but if you hadn’t been at my heels like the hound of hell I might have been more careful.”
    â€œHound of hell? Now you’re exaggerating. I simply wanted to watch my son wake from his slumber. My intentions, Miss Peartree, were entirely honorable. Fatherly. I may have come to my responsibilities late in life, but I assure you I take them very seriously. Marc is my son, you know, not just your charge.”
    She had the grace to look a bit shame faced, so he continued. “I thought we were getting along well, with plans for the school and what-not. Since we seem to be stuck with each other for the time being, let us not waste any time in arguing.”
    â€œI wasn’t arguing.”
    â€œYou are arguing right this minute, Arianna. Alicia?”
    She looked quite ready to pinch him again. “Shall I carry you to prevent further injury, or can you manage on your own?” he teased.
    She snorted and marched up the stairs.
    â€œYou might, you know,