Sin by Sharon Page Page A

with your auburn hair. They are yours to keep.”
    And she thought his apology had sent her heart careening in her chest? “No…no, that would not be right.” She turned to gaze solemnly at him. “I haven’t earned them.”
    “Perhaps you have.” He stroked her cheek. He began to open the buttons of his dress coat. “So what did you think of Lydia?” he asked casually. “Do you still believe she can be convinced to spare you?”
    Startled, Venetia watched him undress. She was sitting on a bed. He had fastened the most gorgeous, heavy, expensive necklace around her neck. What did he plan to do?
    Lydia . He had spoken of Lydia. “I—I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “Why did we not speak to her? We could have had the business finished in the foyer.”
    “If you want to keep your identity a secret, you must leave Lydia to me.” He stroked a fingertip along the length of her throat, caught it in the necklace, brushing both the beautiful stones and her skin. Her legs dissolved like sugar in tea.
    He shrugged off his coat. Laid it on her bed.
    “What are you doing?”
    “We must dress for dinner, love.” He opened his waistcoat while she stared, her mouth gaping. “I would pay her off for you…”
    He would pay Lydia for her? But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want him to rescue her. She wanted to be independent! To be in control.
    “I visited my father last night. To ask him to write an apology about that picture—” She was embarrassed to admit this.
    “Good God, he knows you came here with me?”
    She shook her head. “Of course not! I wouldn’t reveal that. But I couldn’t find the courage to ask him to write the note. He, at least, was in much better health.”
    He stripped off his waistcoat and was working on his shirt. “I doubt your apology would work, sweeting. I know Lydia Harcourt. She has expensive tastes. She wants blunt.”
    Venetia couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that sent her stomach plummeting to her toes. “You’ve had an affair with Lydia Harcourt, haven’t you?” The instant the sour-sounding words spilled out, she regretted them.
    “No.” He undid the buttons of his shirt, then reached for the first one on his trousers.
    “I don’t believe you!” She looked up, into his eyes, but her gaze strayed back to his crotch “Downstairs, she was offering herself to you.”
    He paused, with trousers half open. “Actually she was offering to have sex with you for my amusement. And no, on my honor, I’ve never bedded Lydia Harcourt. She’s ten years older than I am. By the time I was a randy young man visiting orgies, she was a favorite and she refused to fuck anything less than a marquess. It’s only now, when her charms are waning, that a mere earl looks much more appealing.”
    That sounded…cruel. Hard. Something flashed in his blue-green eyes. Anger? “You sound like a rejected suitor.”
    “No, hardly that. But Lydia likes to cause trouble. And I’m not bloody impressed that she’s blackmailing you. You’ve worked hard, taken great risks for the welfare of your family. Lydia has no bloody right to threaten you.”
    No one had ever championed her before. Don’t let it go to your head. It meant nothing. Merely kindness. After all, a man could forsake the woman who bore his children.
    “Now, have you taken a look at your other gifts?”
    Startled, she glanced where he pointed, but at first she could only see his hand. His beautiful hand—tanned, patterned with veins, with large, graceful fingers. He pointed at the gilt escritoire that stood by the window, framed by open drapes of deep green velvet. Beyond, rain slashed down in the gardens. “Other gifts?” she asked.
    “Specially selected by our thoughtful host, Lord Chartrand. You will have to look and see.”
    “I do wish you wouldn’t keep teasing me!”
    “I am delighted to see that even emeralds do not quell your spirit. Why don’t you go and have a look?”
    Chastised, she stomped