Page 141 of Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Spying on an Earl

Meanwhile, in the guest wing of Excelsior Park

U pon leaving James in his guest bedchamber—Eloise didn’t know who was heading in their direction, but she dared not be caught with the earl—she had dashed into the next bedchamber along the hall and quietly closed the door behind her.

Curious to learn more about the Earl of Leicester, she had crept to the connecting door at the back of the room and pressed an ear to the space where the door fit into its jamb. Listening intently, she couldn’t make out everything that was said by her father’s valet, but she could hear when her name was mentioned. She held her breath, worried the visiting earl might mention she had been there, or worse, speak of the kiss they had shared.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to recapture that thrilling moment when the earl’s lips had finally responded to hers. For the briefest of moments, she thought he had stilled himself, refusing to engage with her. Refusing her overture.

Refusing her.

Then he did respond, and not just with his lips, although that’s all she had hoped for. That he would use his tongue, too, was thrilling. Exciting.

When his hands touched her, she could feel their heat through the fabric of her gown. When he pulled her close, she was suddenly enveloped in warmth and the scent of his cologne and the musky odor of man. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her breast, making her more aware of her own pulse.

Once she felt brave enough to touch her tongue to his, she realized he tasted of tea and mint. Although she had briefly wondered what he looked like as he deepened the kiss, she had kept her eyes closed to better concentrate on everything else that was happening.

If they hadn’t been interrupted, they might have continued kissing. Or they might have made their way to the bed, where they could continue their exploration of each other’s bodies. The thought of the warmth of his bare hands against her skin had shivers of excitement skittering down her spine. Had her nipples tightening despite her stays. Had every nerve ending raw with need.

Damn her father’s valet!

Perhaps she had felt his footfalls through the floor because they didn’t match the earl’s pulse or hers. Because she was concentrating on so many other sensations as the earl ravished her mouth.

Would they ever kiss like that again?

She might have allowed the memory to play again in her mind, but the mention of her name had her turning her attention to what was being said on the other side of the door.

James had been talking about her mother and asked about her older sister. Then he asked about her brother. When the conversation returned to her, she felt annoyance at hearing the valet’s use of the term “hoyden.” The servant hadn’t even been employed back when she was truly a hoyden—back when she had been Edward’s best friend and constant playmate.

When the earl’s response held no censure but rather a note of respect, Eloise allowed a sigh of relief. She could kiss him for that. Promised herself she would if she ever had the chance.

Peering through the thin crack between the door and the jamb, she could see when the earl moved to wash his face and arms, his bare chest visible only a bit at a time. Still, it was enough to confirm he was still rather fit.

When he undid the fastenings of his breeches, she thought to look away. Instead, she was mesmerized when she realized he had taken his member in hand to wash it. It took pinching her lips together not to make a sound, for she had never seen a man’s naked prick before.

At least not a real one.

There were a few on the marbles down in the gallery, but none that looked like what hung from his hand as he used a cloth to wipe it dry.

All at once, it—and he—disappeared from her limited view. Finally allowing herself to breathe, Eloise feared she would be unable to face the earl at that night’s dinner.

Wondering if she looked as if she had been ruined, Eloise dared a glance in the nearby cheval mirror. Bending closer until her nose nearly touched the glass, she blinked when she realized her appearance was much as it had been when the lady’s maid had pinned up her hair. There was a bit more color in her cheeks, but then she had been out walking most of the morning.

Sneaking out of the bedchamber, Eloise made her way back to the parlor, relieved to find it empty. Her delay in returning would have been noted by her mother, and Eloise would have had to feign annoyance and refuse to answer.

The behavior wouldn’t have been questioned by the marchioness. Not after all these years of her playing mute as a means to get her way. As a means to protest her given name.

When a footman appeared with coffee and walnuts, she helped herself to a cup and settled into a chair. She was about to relive the kiss but decided it best she not when her sister and mother appeared in the parlor. Engaged in an animated discussion about wedding clothes, they ignored her.

Eloise’s attention went to Stephanie’s gown, a sky-blue moire silk that shifted side to side as her long legs carried her to the footman holding the tray of coffee and cups.

Would James notice Stephanie’s long legs? Her lithe figure and perfect blonde hair?

Eloise remembered the seating arrangement for dinner. James had requested she be seated next to him. She supposed eating beside him wouldn’t be so difficult. The thought that her sister would be seated across from him rankled, though, until she remembered hearing him request a different colored waistcoat from the one the valet had initially offered.

Apricot , he had said.

As if he had been waiting for her thoughts to return to him, James appeared on the threshold wearing a waistcoat that exactly matched the color of her gown. Eloise felt both honored and embarrassed.

Whatever was the Earl of Leicester up to?