Page 35 of The Danger of Desire

But they wouldn’t hear. They were at Grandmother’s. He hadn’t wanted to go.

He should have gone.

So now he was truly alone. Except for Pickering. His hateful tutor, Pickering.

Something skittered over his leg. He squealed and kicked out. Someone—something—other than him squealed. A rat. He shuddered. Rats were worse than ghosts.

Jumping up, he stomped about. “Die, die, die!”

Then something crashed, and pain shot through his leg—

“My lord?”

Warren jerked awake, his skin clammy and his heart racing. He wasn’t in the cellar. Thank God he was at the brothel.

“Are you well?”

He straightened to find a pretty whore standing in the doorway, regarding him with wary alarm. Bloody hell, he hoped he hadn’t said anything.

“I’m fine. I just... dozed off.” He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleephere. That’s what came of rising too early to go to Delia’s, after staying out all night.

This washerfault, damn it. She was upsetting the rhythm of his days, and now the nightmares were catching up with him. God only knew how he’d survive a week in the country, with everyone retiring at some ridiculously early hour.

“Shall I go?” the woman asked, still watching him uneasily.

Don’t be a sniveling coward, boy.

“Certainly not.” He forced a rakish grin to his lips. He couldn’t bear to be alone right now. “I didn’t come here to sleep, I assure you.”

Relaxing, the woman smiled coyly and sauntered over to him. She was exactly his sort, full-figured and blond and clearly willing to do whatever he would want.

Climbing onto his lap, she ran a soft hand over his cheek. “My lord, you seem very distracted this evening. Perhaps I can take your mind off your troubles.”

He truly wished she could. But his troubles centered around a slim, full-hipped debutante with sparkling blue eyes and a sharp wit who made all other women seem rather... lackluster, even the buxom blonde who wriggled purposefully on his lap.

In a flash, he remembered Delia’s shock when he’d pressed his hardening flesh against her. That shock had rapidly turned into a sweet yielding when he’d approached the second time to kiss and tongue her throat. Just thinking about it made him harden. If it wereDeliawriggling atop his lap—

Damn it all. This was ludicrous. “How would you propose to take my mind off my troubles?” He would thrust the innocent little Delia from his mind if it killed him. She could keep him from sleeping late in the morning, but he wouldn’t let her keep him from this.

The whore slid forward on his lap just enough so she could slip her hand down to cup his cock. It was already erect. But not for her. No, it was for some chit who didn’t have the good sense to know when she was wrong.

“I can take care of this,” the woman cooed. “If you wish.”

He did wish. Except that he wished another woman entirely would take care of it. What idiocy.

“Fine,” he said, though in truth he had no desire to engage with this woman when his head was filled with another. She started to position herself over his hard cock, and he said, “No. I want your mouth on me.”

Because then he could pretend it was Delia. He could pretend her mouth was engulfing him and her lovely hands were gripping his thighs and...

“There you are, Knightford!” said the voice of some fellow he half knew, as the blonde knelt in front of Warren. “I expected you to be at Dickson’s, gambling.”

Irritated by the interruption, he growled, “Why would I be at Dickson’s?”

The gentleman shrugged. “Because Jack Jones is there. And since the two of you didn’t finish your game last night, I thought you’d be there demanding another go at it.”

God help him! Warren rose, ignoring the whore who was already unbuttoning his trousers. Impatiently, he shoved her hands away and refastened his buttons, his cock already softening. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. The lad is hard to miss. And his card playing is even more distinctive. I swear, I’ve never seen a fellow so adept at...”