Through the Smoke by Brenda Novak Page A

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. I would rather we forget last night ever happened. It was all a big… misunderstanding.”
    “A misunderstanding? I find a naked woman in my bed, and she is warm and willing and more responsive than I could ever have dreamed she would be, and you tell me—”
    “Please, stop!”
    He chuckled softly. “Does it bother you so badly to admit that you wanted what I wanted? Are you above the appetites of the flesh, Miss McTavish?”
    “That is hardly a fair question when you know I have little experience with such things—”
    “Which is exactly why I am confused. Pray, enlighten me. Last night youleave ten pounds on my bureau, money I fear you can scarce live without. But when I try to return it, along with a significant amount for your… shall we say, discomfort, you send my servant away with every pound.”
    “Because I am not what you think. You wish to excuse yourself by tossing me a few pounds, to consider me better off for having given myself to you. But I won’t have it. Live with yourself if you can. I want nothing from you. I was merely trying to return the money you gave Mrs. Tate when your cousin came upon me on the road.”
    She sensed the earl shifting, no longer leaning on the bookshelves. “Wythe said he merely extended you the invitation.” His voice was soft on the outside but hard underneath, velvet over steel.
    “He did a lot more than that.”
    “Such as… ?”
    She waved a hand. “He said some nonsensical things about you taking him up on his idea after hitting him for making the suggestion. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about and tried to get away on his horse, but the silly beast threw me. The next thing I knew I found myself beneath your coverlet and you were there.…”
    “Touching you.” He stepped into the moonlight streaming through the front windows. “And you were telling me in ways as old as time that you wanted me to.”
    Yes. Even his scarred hand had not put her off. The thought of it brought her no revulsion now, as much as she wished otherwise. “No,” she started but he cut her off.
    “Then why didn’t you say something? Let me know there had been a mistake?”
    “Because I had just hit my head!” She almost mentioned that she might’ve been drugged, too. But that was a serious accusation and she had no proof of it. It wasn’t necessary, anyway. The bump was enough. “I was too befuddled to think. I didn’t even know who you were,” she lied.
    His laugh this time was bitter. “Of course not. You would never willingly give yourself to
me
, not for money, not for anything. I almost forgot. I am your nemesis. God forbid you might actually find yourself attracted to me.” While he spoke, he moved closer, stopping only inches away. Towering overher the way he was, limed in silver, his cloak swirling around his knees, he looked darkly mysterious. “But you know who is touching you now, don’t you, Rachel?” he asked, removing the glove on his good hand so he could run a finger down her cheek.
    Rachel’s brain screamed for her to move away, but her legs wouldn’t carry her. She stood staring up into eyes that glittered with challenge and desire.
    He lowered his head until his breath fanned her cheek and his lips hovered a hairbreadth above hers. What she felt in that moment reminded Rachel of a line from one of Tennyson’s poems: “Once he drew with one long kiss my whole soul thro’ my lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.”
    Closing her eyes, she swayed expectantly toward him, but he didn’t kiss her. “I think you knew it was me all along,” he said, and when Rachel opened her eyes again, he was gone.

Chapter 7
    “Very interesting.” Chuckling softly, a figure stood in the shadow of the building, watching as the earl rode away from the McTavish Bookshop. Unless the glimmering moonlight had been playing tricks, Druridge was upset. There was no accounting for that, but there was also no dismissing