evening, Mrs. Worthington.”
“Please, Philip.” Willow laid a finger on his lips. “You know I do not like it when you call me that.”
“Alright then. Willow ,” he corrected himself. “What are you playing at, you naughty girl? Gambling? Smoking cigars? You're liable to give your poor brother a heart attack!”
“Then let us hope he does not leave the parlor, for I would not want him to see this !” Willow yanked off Philip's cravat and started trailing kisses across his neck. His eyelids fluttered as her lips devoured him.
When her mouth left his skin, Philip took a step back and raked a hand through his hair, distraught, as if her kisses had been his undoing. The Earl of Mowbray, Philip Boulstridge, was truly an arrestingly handsome man, and he had the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. If ever there was a man who had been touched by angels, it had to be him.
“I have to have you,” he vowed. “I must have you.”
“Soon,” she promised him. “Very soon.”
“But I need you now !” Philip rushed forward, pinning her against the wall again.
In the corner of her eye, Willow saw the butler heading in their direction, so she gently pushed him away and tried to compose herself. “Control yourself, Philip. We would not want to make a scene.”
“You say that now, you cheeky little minx,” he said with a chuckle, “but you're the one who lured me out and started tearing at my clothes.” He motioned toward his discarded cravat.
“True. That's very true.”
“Does your brother know about us?”
“No.” As she shook her head, Willow took her lower lip between her teeth. “But he will.”
* * *
“You're leaving?!” her brother shrieked. “Where on earth will you go?!”
“Does it matter?”
As soon as Willow lifted her valise, Arthur wrested it from her hands and lowered it to the floor. “Of course it matters! I care about you! You're my sister! You're the only family I have left!”
Willow laid a hand over her heart. Though she was touched by his sentiment, nothing would make her change her mind. “You really want to know where I intend to go?”
“Of course I do!”
“If I tell you, you mustn't get angry!”
“I won't get angry.”
“You promise?”
“I promise!” However, he could not look her in the eye as he delivered his promise, as he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep it. His sister's unpredictable behavior often had him swimming in a sea of vexation.
“I am going to London with Lord Mowbray.” Willow reported her news with her chin held high.
“What?! Philip? Why?!”
“Must I really go into detail, brother?” Willow grabbed her valise once again, and passed it to one of the footmen. As they were currently standing in the foyer, her freedom wasn't far away.
“Are you going to live with him?”
“Yes,” she answered calmly. “In his townhouse. In London.”
“Does he intend to marry you?!”
“At present? No.”
Arthur buried his face in his hands as he erupted with a groan. Philip had been a close friend for several years, and now he had the audacity to sully his sister? If not for the fact that Philip was a crack shot, Arthur might have called him out. “So, what? Has he offered you carte-blanche? You're just going to be his mistress?!”
“No.” Willow took another step toward the door, determined to be rid of her brother sooner than later. “More like he is my mistress. I prefer to think of it that way.”
Chapter Two
Edward Harcourt could not tear his eyes away from her. Nineteen-year-old Jane Abrahms was a goddess, an incomparable angel, emoting perfection in every smile and pout. Her golden curls had been piled on her head in such a fashion, Edward swore it looked like a halo. Her cheeks were round, rosy and preciously pink; and her alabaster skin seemed to glow.
As transfixed as he was by the young lady, he didn't see his friend Olly approaching, not until he felt the slap on his back. “Aren't you setting your
“Please, Philip.” Willow laid a finger on his lips. “You know I do not like it when you call me that.”
“Alright then. Willow ,” he corrected himself. “What are you playing at, you naughty girl? Gambling? Smoking cigars? You're liable to give your poor brother a heart attack!”
“Then let us hope he does not leave the parlor, for I would not want him to see this !” Willow yanked off Philip's cravat and started trailing kisses across his neck. His eyelids fluttered as her lips devoured him.
When her mouth left his skin, Philip took a step back and raked a hand through his hair, distraught, as if her kisses had been his undoing. The Earl of Mowbray, Philip Boulstridge, was truly an arrestingly handsome man, and he had the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. If ever there was a man who had been touched by angels, it had to be him.
“I have to have you,” he vowed. “I must have you.”
“Soon,” she promised him. “Very soon.”
“But I need you now !” Philip rushed forward, pinning her against the wall again.
In the corner of her eye, Willow saw the butler heading in their direction, so she gently pushed him away and tried to compose herself. “Control yourself, Philip. We would not want to make a scene.”
“You say that now, you cheeky little minx,” he said with a chuckle, “but you're the one who lured me out and started tearing at my clothes.” He motioned toward his discarded cravat.
“True. That's very true.”
“Does your brother know about us?”
“No.” As she shook her head, Willow took her lower lip between her teeth. “But he will.”
* * *
“You're leaving?!” her brother shrieked. “Where on earth will you go?!”
“Does it matter?”
As soon as Willow lifted her valise, Arthur wrested it from her hands and lowered it to the floor. “Of course it matters! I care about you! You're my sister! You're the only family I have left!”
Willow laid a hand over her heart. Though she was touched by his sentiment, nothing would make her change her mind. “You really want to know where I intend to go?”
“Of course I do!”
“If I tell you, you mustn't get angry!”
“I won't get angry.”
“You promise?”
“I promise!” However, he could not look her in the eye as he delivered his promise, as he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep it. His sister's unpredictable behavior often had him swimming in a sea of vexation.
“I am going to London with Lord Mowbray.” Willow reported her news with her chin held high.
“What?! Philip? Why?!”
“Must I really go into detail, brother?” Willow grabbed her valise once again, and passed it to one of the footmen. As they were currently standing in the foyer, her freedom wasn't far away.
“Are you going to live with him?”
“Yes,” she answered calmly. “In his townhouse. In London.”
“Does he intend to marry you?!”
“At present? No.”
Arthur buried his face in his hands as he erupted with a groan. Philip had been a close friend for several years, and now he had the audacity to sully his sister? If not for the fact that Philip was a crack shot, Arthur might have called him out. “So, what? Has he offered you carte-blanche? You're just going to be his mistress?!”
“No.” Willow took another step toward the door, determined to be rid of her brother sooner than later. “More like he is my mistress. I prefer to think of it that way.”
Chapter Two
Edward Harcourt could not tear his eyes away from her. Nineteen-year-old Jane Abrahms was a goddess, an incomparable angel, emoting perfection in every smile and pout. Her golden curls had been piled on her head in such a fashion, Edward swore it looked like a halo. Her cheeks were round, rosy and preciously pink; and her alabaster skin seemed to glow.
As transfixed as he was by the young lady, he didn't see his friend Olly approaching, not until he felt the slap on his back. “Aren't you setting your
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