Page 20 of Only Earl in the World (Taming of the Dukes)

The soft blue was just the right hue to make her mouthwatering skin glow and brought out the amber and chartreuse flecks in her eyes.

Her brown spirals were lustrous and glossy, kissing the long column of her throat and exposed shoulder.

There was nothing nice about the slanted bodice that clung to her curves, or the way the ripples of silk molded to her cinched waist and voluptuously flared hips.

His mouth was so dry, he could barely fucking speak.

“You look stunning,” he said and then cleared his throat when his voice emerged in an unnatural croak. “One of the marchioness’s creations, I presume?”

“Thank you, Lord Lushing. And yes, Laila is indeed a marvel.” Her eyes narrowed for a beat at his clearly besotted expression before she canted her head and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level.

“Is complimenting each other like this part of our performance? Are Sackley and Penelope here already?”

“Not that I can see,” he said, frowning slightly. “Can’t a man simply be smitten by a beautiful woman? ”

Flags of color lit her cheeks, but she didn’t respond to his question, as if determined to keep things cool and distant between them.

“We should dance while we can. The more we’re seen, the better off we will be.

Penelope’s mother let it slip to mine that her daughter might have made a terrible mistake.

Whenever I’m in your arms, she’s green with envy.

” Briar’s brows pinched. “So, our plan is working better than we hoped. Soon, you will have exactly what you wanted…for her to come crawling back.”

He jolted. It wasn’t Penelope he was suddenly imagining on her hands and knees. What if what he wanted wasn’t the same anymore?

The question came out of nowhere.

“As will you.” Jasper extended his elbow, which she took, and he escorted her to the circle of dancers. To his surprise, Sackley and Penelope were both paired up as well. Jasper lowered his head, bussing his lips over Briar’s gloved knuckles. “They’re here.”

Briar craned her head immediately. “Where?”

“About to dance.”

Her mouth curled down at the sight of the couple. “But he hates dancing!”

“Perhaps they are hoping to beat us at our own game,” Jasper said as he slid his fingers over her waist and grasped her free palm with his own. “We have been doing a marvelous job of seeming deliriously happy.”

“Have we?” she murmured, distracted and equally dismayed.

“Eyes on me, Briar,” he said with a low rumble of command in his tone, one that had her entire body going as taut as a bowstring.

Her attention immediately flicked to him, those green irises bright with instant lust. When hot splotches of crimson flooded her cheeks, he smirked.

So, she hadn’t forgotten what that kiss had felt like.

Well, neither had he.

Jasper hoarded her unguarded reaction, solidifying his suspicion that his sneaky little storyteller loved being told what to do.

He would not have predicted that without having read her book, though it made sense.

Powerful women sometimes had submissive urges, especially in the bedchamber.

And she’d practically written out a wish list with Lady Ivy.

His blood heated. A wish list he was suddenly desperate to deliver.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she belatedly snapped, though the slightest tremor in her words gave her away.

“Prickles, what have I said?” he murmured, expertly guiding her into the first turn.

“Lie to everyone else but not to me.” He leaned in, voice pitched low and deep, fingers dancing over the curve of her hip.

“Secretly, somewhere deep down inside”—he kneaded his fingers into her flesh and changed the cadence of his tone to something far more intimate—“you’re fascinated by the idea of someone ordering you about because you want nothing more than to give up control. ”

The shudder beneath her skin and the increased pace of her breaths were the only indications she had heard him. It was a true credit to her poise that her face remained neutral despite its heightened color and that her feet obediently mimicked his for each beat of the waltz.

His voice dropped to gravel. “You crave being instructed on what to do, don’t you?”

The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed wildly, and he longed to collar that beautiful throat and trace his thumb over that spot…

press his tongue to it and make that fluttering pulse go wild.

As it had in the alley in Whitechapel. Jasper licked his lips instead, watching her passion-blown eyes dip to his mouth, her own lips parting on a needy sigh.

Bloody hell, if they weren’t in a public ballroom, he’d kiss her senseless.

His thumb grazed over the inside of her wrist, making her quiver. “Did you know there are rooms at Lethe that allow for the safe, consensual exploration of certain appetites?”

The question detonated like a bomb between them.

Those beautiful eyes hunted his as if looking for the censure that would certainly come.

It would not. He would never make her feel ashamed of her desires, but that would take time…

and trust. God, he wanted her to trust him.

Needed it like his next breath. Though that was the thing with trust—it had to be earned.

Finally, she found her voice, which was huskier than usual. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lord Lushing. Yes, I am aware that you have an exceptional restaurant at Lethe to satisfy even the most discerning of appetites .”

He hid his grin at her deflection.

“There you go, lying again,” he whispered, twirling her once more so that their path neared the couple they were meant to be inciting.

“I am not,” she said primly.

“Minthe is reportedly exceptional at flagellation,” he went on, reveling in the tiny stumble before she righted herself. “Has she ever told you that she does it on a whim from time to time at Lethe? Some of the members revere her skills.”

He wound his fingers wickedly into the pleated fabric at her waist, pulling the delicate silk taut against her skin.

Her sharp intake of breath was a delight to his senses.

How had he not known that outspoken, brash, independent Lady Briar Fairview had such singular desires…

ones that he was perfectly equipped to tantalize and satiate?

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because she’s a fascinating woman.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know of your interest,” she tossed back as green eyes slammed into his, brightening with something other than lust before it was throttled away.

“Trust me, Sweetbriar, she’s not who I want.”

His companion huffed. “Goodness, Lord Lushing, you change your mind like a high society lady changes garments. First Penelope, then Minthe. Who will you want tomorrow?”

“I only want one woman.” He leaned in, mouth grazing her ear as they spun. “And she’s a willful brat who needs to know her place.”

She fumbled her steps, nearly causing a collision, and then did the unimaginable: she left him right there in the middle of the ballroom floor.

The whispers reached the rafters, other dancers craning their necks to see what the fuss was.

A chuckling Jasper didn’t care. She was a fucking goddess who could do whatever she wanted, everyone else be damned.

By God, he wanted to demolish every single one of her inhibitions, but the armor she wore was near impenetrable.

He wanted to be the one to see her bloom and take her pleasure without any shame, or worse, any fear of being judged.

That was the problem with society in general—all the fucking rules they had as to one’s private identity.

What did it matter when desire and love were both fluid things that could exist separately and in tandem?

How did the events of the bedchamber or elsewhere between consenting adults impact the very fabric of moral society?

It was ludicrous. Sexual congress was natural and healthy.

Procreation and the continuation of humanity was simply one outcome.

Pleasure was another. The doctrine that women should shy away from pleasure to control brittle male impulses had always been laughable to him.

Women weren’t responsible for the actions of men.

Their hushed conversation while waltzing scandalously close had already garnered attention.

The lady’s outrageous, indecorous exit in the middle of a dance, even more so.

And not only from the surrounding spectators whose tongues were already wagging with censorious glee.

Jasper could feel the probing stares from both the viscount and his fiancée.

He’d never, ever leave her to the wolves, so he prowled after her to where she stood on the terrace, gripping the balustrade and hauling deep breaths into her lungs.

“Go away, Lushing,” she said, but she didn’t sound upset. She was breathless .

“I’ll have to punish you for that, you know, storming off without permission ,” he drawled, joining her where she stood and noting her shiver with a satisfied smile. “Perhaps I’ll make you crawl to me. Would you like that?”

She whirled around, biting her lip hard.

An overbright emerald gaze collided with his, the outrage that she was aiming for failing spectacularly.

No, that was intrigue simmering like banked flames in those expressive eyes before flicking to what must be a very avid audience behind them.

“Stop it,” she said, breath hitching when his brow arched. “You’re being crude.”

“Never took you for a coward, Poison Ivy ,” he teased.

She huffed a breath and glared. “And you’re a rake!”

“Haven’t you heard? Rakes can be an excellent resource for anyone looking to explore their inner seductress.”

Her mouth opened and closed, the scattering of freckles standing out like stardust beneath that fiery blush. “I will never need…oh, sometimes you are unspeakable!”

“Only sometimes?”

Briar bared her teeth in a feral smile. “Lushing, I swear to the heavens above that I will cut you dead and end this preposterous engagement, and all our efforts will be for naught, if you don’t cease whatever this new game of yours is immediately.

We are so close. Don’t lose focus now because you’re bored and need a distraction or simply want to be a pest.” She smiled up at him, playing it up for their audience, though her gaze was pure smelted steel.

“Soon, you shall have the right girl on her knees…as you desired. But mark my words, that will not be me.”

Christ , the challenge was fucking irresistible.

But Jasper chuckled and relented. He’d respect her wishes…for now. Because if the last few weeks with her had shown him anything, it was that Lady Penelope could never, ever compare to the seething tempest who stood in front of him without an ounce of compliance in her body.

Not yet, anyway.

No, Penelope wasn’t the one he wanted at all. He wanted a magnificent, ambitious siren with a tongue that didn’t hesitate to slice a man to ribbons, an incisive, imaginative brain that would put a prodigy to shame, and a heart so big it took his breath away.

And now, he had the perfect strategy to woo her.

One she would never see coming.