Seduction & Scandal by Charlotte Featherstone

him feel her body—the body he had made ache with desire. The body she seemed no longer able to control. He had made it his with this kiss, and now she felt as though she would die if he did not show her how to give her body what it was screaming for.
    She was wound tight, restless, and he knew it, made the tightness more taut as he deepened the kiss, kissing her harder and hungrier then before. Yes, she chanted. More…more…
    Breaking the kiss, Black was breathing fast as he rested his forehead against hers, while their gazes locked. With his fingertip, he brushed her lower lip, sweeping slowly,erotically. “Inevitable,” he whispered, and somehow Isabella knew that what had transpired between them was only the beginning of the fall.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T WO HOURS LATER, Black was still ruminating on the carriage ride, and the kiss he’d shared with Isabella. His mind should be clear, focused on his goals—find the person behind the House of Orpheus and locate the relics. However, he couldn’t still his thoughts long enough to focus on anything but Isabella and how he had wanted much, much more from her.
    He could still taste her, feel her shape beneath his hands. Damn it, he was still semiaroused, and thinking of it was making it worse.
    â€œYour usual table is ready, my lord,” the butler announced as Black shed his hat and coat and passed them to the retainer. With a nod, he turned and walked down the dimly lit corridor. It was late afternoon, and the gas lamps had not been lit yet despite the fact that the card rooms and dining room were already filled. But then, this wasn’t a club where aristocrats wiled away the hours.
    He’d come to Blake’s, a little-known gentleman’s club in Bloomsbury, for a reason. Its clientele mostly comprised artists and poets, and the odd financier. Very few people of the ton were members, and that was precisely why he’d chosen to pay his membership here—beyond prying eyes and gossiping mouths. He loathed gossip. Especially since he’d frequently been an object of it. He did everything in his power not to subject himself to it, but he’d broken his self-imposed rule last evening by venturing out of his house to a ball and singling out a beautiful young woman by dancing with her.
    Years of strictures shot to hell in less than five minutes. But there were some things in life that proved too great a temptation—even for him. And Isabella had proved to be one of them. She was most likely the only temptation he could not resist.
    Turning right, he entered the small room at the back of the club. The gaming rooms and bar were up front, leaving the back relatively quiet—and empty. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth. Sitting at the table was Sussex, reading a paper and drinking a whiskey.
    At Black’s entrance, a servant placed a freshly pressed news sheet and a dram of scotch at the empty place, which Black immediately occupied. Once the servant was out of earshot, he took a sip of his drink and watched as Sussex lowered the paper.
    â€œWell?” he asked. “I received your message.”
    Black glanced around, shifted in his chair, giving the air that he was settling in for a bit. “I have information on the House of Orpheus.”
    His Grace’s eyes lit with interest. “Indeed? You’ve been busy, and for one who apparently doesn’t give a damn about finding the relics.”
    Ignoring the taunt, he continued. “Last night I told you I recalled recently seeing the image for the House of Orpheus.” He lifted the paper and pretended to peruse it. “It was on a billet at the front of the Adelphi Theatre.”
    The duke’s dark brow rose in question. “The Adelphi is little more than a bawdy house—with its painted women and questionable productions.”
    â€œWhich makes it a wonderful cover for such a club, don’t you think?”
    Sussex folded his paper and