Undressed by the Earl by Michelle Willingham Page A

unmentionables over the years? What will you do when I stop?”
    All the blood seemed to drain away from her veins. They relied upon Cain Sinclair to deliver the garments from Scotland to London. Without him, they could no longer keep Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. And though she knew it was a scandalous, dangerous game they were playing, he was earning a good wage for the deliveries.
    “Why would you stop?” she asked. “You’ve earned a great deal over the past few years.”
    “Aye. But it’s no’ the sort of life I’m wanting. I’ve a younger brother, Jonah, and he shouldna be left alone so often.”
    She sobered, for Jonah must be nearly fourteen now. “He’s getting into trouble, isn’t he?”
    The rigid cast to Cain’s face told her that she’d guessed correctly. “Aye. And this has gone on long enough. Your family doesna need the money, and the risk of you being discovered is too high. Let it go, lass.”
    Margaret let out a heavy breath, for it wasn’t as easy as he might believe. Victoria had begun the sewing business as a means of helping their family survive. The Scottish crofters had helped her increase the quantities, and they had made a good profit over the years. In the past, she’d pleaded with her sisters to end the business, for fear of being discovered. But now, there was a different reason to keep it.
    “What about the MacKinloch women?” she asked. “They and their families depend on the sewing for their livelihood.”
    He moved beside her, silently asking her to walk with him. Although they remained near the house, she understood the need to avoid eavesdroppers.
    “You could sell the business to someone else. Madame Benedict might agree.”
    “She would hire local seamstresses, not the crofters’ wives.” Margaret shook her head. “No, it can’t be someone in London.” She stopped walking near one of the tethered horses. “Are you certain you can’t continue? What if you brought Jonah with you?”
    “I couldna trust him in London. He’s hotheaded and goes off with nary a thought. And he’s fallen in with the wrong sort of boys.”
    She understood his reasons, but her heart sank at the thought of having to find another trusted person to deliver the undergarments from Ballaloch to London. “Whom should we trust, then?” she asked. “It has to be someone who would not compromise our secrecy.” Raising her eyes to his, she added, “You were the one person we trusted without question.”
    A hard edge came over his face. “But you didna trust me for more than that, did you, lass?”
    Her heart bruised at his words, and she stiffened. She knew who she was: the daughter of a baron. She’d dreamed all her life of wedding a nobleman and living the life of a lady. She’d been groomed to memorize all the rules of etiquette, and she could easily become a duchess or a marchioness.
    Everything about Cain Sinclair was forbidden to her. Not only his social class, but also his devil-may-care behavior. Even more, they were worlds apart. He would never understand the intricate social rules she lived by, and if he ever set foot in a ballroom, he would likely behave like a barbarian.
    She couldn’t let down her guard for a single second, because he was the sort of man her mother had warned her about—a man who could ruin her. Worse, she was afraid she would like it. He was so passionate, so seductive, it was too easy to let herself fall beneath his spell.
    Margaret couldn’t look at him when his hand reached out to cup her cheek. The touch of his callused palm gave a stark contrast between a working man’s hands and her bare skin. “I did trust you,” she whispered. Fumbling for a reason, she added, “You know my family would never allow us to be together.”
    “Because I’m no’ a gentleman.”
    “No.” She lost her breath when he guided her into the shadow of a horse stall. “You’re not.”
    His hand moved down to her throat before tangling in her updo. “And you want a