Untouched by Anna Campbell Page B

visit had incited her to take the initiative. What other purpose
    could bring her here silent as a ghost? His uncle had ordered her to bed him and like a good little puppet, she danced to
    the tug of the strings.
    The reminder of his uncle stirred his anger. Thank Christ. Otherwise, he’d have leapt to his feet and grabbed her, damn
    the consequences.
    Her scent called to him, tempting him to forget everything except that she was close enough to touch. His hands balled
    against his sides.
    If he touched her, he’d take her.
    He resented her. He mistrusted her. But he couldn’t deny he wanted her.
    He didn’t know how long they waited. He, pretending to sleep. She, trapped between fleeing and advancing. All the time,
    his unruly flesh swelled and rose, insisting she was his for the price of reaching out his hand.
    “I know you’re awake,” she said huskily.
    “Yes.” He gave a heavy sigh and sat up, placing his bare feet flat upon the floor. Although it was dark, he dragged the
    blanket across to cover his nakedness. “What do you want, Mrs. Paget?” he asked wearily, running his hands through his
    hair.
    “I don’t know.”
    That was a lie. They both knew why she was here. She was his uncle’s obedient cipher. But God help him, she sounded
    so innocent and bewildered. He tried to revive his earlier rage but he was too dizzy with lust.
    “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered to himself rather than to her. He couldn’t take much more. He stood, hitching the blanket
    more securely. She gasped and lurched back. Copulation might be her goal but she seemed less than reconciled to the
    idea.
    The darkness was dangerously intimate. He leaned across and lit a candle to dispel the web of awareness between them.
    A futile hope. He was always aware of her.
    She’d tied her thick dark hair into a glossy plait that fell across one shoulder and dangled between her breasts. Under her
    transparent ice-blue night rail, the outline of her slender body was visible.
    ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    She kept her gaze lowered. Even so, she must have sensed where his eyes dwelt. To his reluctant regret, she wrapped her
    arms around herself, covering her chest. It was a characteristic gesture she used when she was frightened, or at least
    pretending to be so.
    “You’re safe enough,” he said in a dismissive tone, praying it was true. “I can restrain my manly passions.”
    “You don’t have any manly passions,” she said sullenly.
    “What?”
    He stared at her, startled. A flush of color seeped under the creamy skin of her face.
    “No, I meant…That is…” She took a deep breath and at last looked at him. Unbelievably, he watched the beautiful eyes
    widen and fix on his bare chest. Her color rose higher and her tongue flickered out to moisten her lips. Her arms dropped
    loosely to her sides as though she offered herself. If he hadn’t known better, he’d believe she found him as compelling as
    he found her.
    She wrenched her gaze up to meet his. “I’m sorry. I referred to your interactions with me. I mean, I’m sure you have
    manly passions. Every man…” She trailed off. She glanced away and her attention focused on the rumpled sofa. “I didn’t
    know you slept down here.”
    He shrugged. “You occupy the only bed in the house.”
    “I know.” Again she licked her lips, pink, moist, succulent. The simple action tightened the coil of lust inside him. “Or I
    know now. I looked for you upstairs but only one chamber is set up for sleeping.”
    That explained some of the restless movement he’d heard. The picture of her pursuing him through the darkened house
    was evocative enough to stop his breath. Thank God for the blanket around his waist or his unwelcome visitor would have
    no doubt about his manly passions.
    He bent his head in an ironical bow. “Until your delightful advent into my existence, I hadn’t expected to