Page 23 of Entertaining the Earl (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #2)

S usannah could never, in her wildest dreams, have imagined that this would happen when she’d entered the library door. His kiss was hungry, scorching, desperate, and she matched his passion, swept up in the moment.

He covered her body with his, and she felt breathless—not just from his weight atop her, but from everything moving so fast, from his lips upon hers, from not knowing what was to come.

His lips moved to her neck, her clavicle, trailing a fiery line of kisses until he reached the swell of her breasts, which were barely visible in this dress.

She rather wished she was just in her nightgown, as she had been the last time she had stumbled across him in the library—and then was shocked at such a wanton thought.

She gasped at the sensation of his lips on the delicate, bare skin of her décolletage, and writhed beneath him as one hand moved to cup her left breast through the dress.

“Susannah,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. She felt like she might explode at any moment, the heat within her more powerful than any coming from the fire they were laying before.

She had some idea of what happened between a husband and wife, from reading books that were surely not meant for her eyes, but she’d had no idea it could feel like this.

Or that she could lose all sense of time and place and propriety as his fingers trailed up her legs, pushed her skirts out of the way, and gently caressed that place between her thighs that was crying out for him.

“Colin,” she groaned, unable to stop herself, pleasure building throughout her body.

And then he froze. His lips remained against her throat, his hand beneath her skirts, but he did not move, until he slowly pulled away.

“I—” he began, and Susannah’s racing heart fell at the tortured look in his eyes. She pulled down her skirt, feeling suddenly very exposed, and pushed herself up on her elbows.

“Please, forgive me,” he said, standing and walking towards the window. “I cannot do this.”

Humiliation and horror swept over Susannah, making her stomach tighten and her skin flame.

She scrambled to her feet and tried to make herself look presentable, even though she did not have a looking glass to check the results.

She had almost given herself to him…and yet, he could not go through with it.

Had he really found her so unattractive that he could not proceed?

She felt her eyes filling with tears and she turned toward the door, refusing to let him see how upset he had made her—although he wasn’t looking at her, anyway. He was staring out of the window, presumably horrified by what he had nearly done. And especially, that he’d nearly done it with her .

So why was she standing there, waiting for him to acknowledge her?

He didn’t want her. That was clear enough. Something about her was so repulsive that he could not lie with her, and it broke her heart to think that he viewed her so.

She knew she wasn’t pretty, but she’d thought he liked her, at least a little.

Well, apparently not enough.

She turned on her heel, deciding waiting was foolish, and wanting to escape to her room before the tears began to fall.

And then he called her name. Softly .

“Susannah…”

She could not help but turn around, even though it hurt to even look at him.

Her embarrassment crushed her, pressing on her shoulders, and wrapping around her middle.

It choked her throat, made tears prick at her eyes.

She was embarrassed about what she had almost done, embarrassed that he had called it off, embarrassed that she just wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and although the words sounded sincere, they couldn’t change what had happened.

She had no words to answer. They were stuck in her throat. So she turned back to the door, and hurried away, hoping desperately that she did not meet anyone on her way to bed.

*

Colin hated himself. He could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and yet there was nothing he could say but “sorry”.

And she ran from the room anyway.

He didn’t blame her. It was probably the most sensible thing she’d done all evening.

After all, he had not behaved like a gentleman at all.

What he’d begun with her was totally wrong—and it had only been the sound of his name, falling from her lips, that had made him pause, to think about what he was doing.

And he couldn’t continue.

Not just because she was an innocent, or that she was a proper young lady—although both were certainly reasons why he should not have deflowered her on the library floor—but because he had vowed not to be like his father.

He would not have a bevy of mistresses, he would not leave a trail of illegitimate children in his wake. He would marry, and he would be faithful.

He could not ruin Miss Lyttleton, Susannah, in that way.

He would not behave like that, even if he had forgotten himself briefly.

He had treated her poorly, and he only hoped she would forgive him.

He would have to try to apologize to her properly the following day, for it was certainly not appropriate for him to go to her bedchamber, especially now—and he wasn’t totally sure he could resist the temptation if he did.

Downing the last of his brandy, he blew out the candles and made his way to bed. He did not want to spend hours sitting in the library, regretting what he had done…or wishing he had not had an attack of conscience.

His attraction to Miss Lyttleton was driving him to distraction, and that was certainly not something he had expected when he had first arrived.