Page 131 of The Lord Meets His Lady

“Running away again?” he taunted, dragging the book free. “You have a penchant for it.”

She flinched, her gaze darting to the fireplace’s crackling blaze.

“What? No retort?” He held the book to the light. “Venus and Adonis. My, how your tastes have changed.”

Hazel eyes mocked her. Sitting on her heels with her legs folded beneath her, they were at eye level, yet she was out of her depth with her husband, a man of experience and position. Never had she been made tofeeltheir difference, not until this moment.

“This was a mistake.” She pushed the cheroot box across the floor. “I thought these would make you happy.”

Ignoring the box, he flipped through the book. “Where did you get this?”

Yanking her skirts did nothing. “Let. Me. Go.”

His knee wouldn’t budge.

“Not until you tell me how you got the book.” He scowled and glanced up from the page. “Didhegive it to you?”

“Herr Wolf? No. An actress gave it to me. When I was learning to read.”

Her cheeks flamed red when he paused on a nude print. He studied the picture, not particularly engrossed, yet not turning the page. “And you thought to check on me…with this.”

“I was worried. I knew you were angry with Mr. Beckworth talking about Khan, and I was…well, afraid you might—”

“Drink again.” He snapped the book shut.

“Yes. Now give it back.”

“You have that little faith in me?”

He was too close, filling her vision. A patch of hair sprinkled his chest. Two faint birthmarks, the size of pebbles, stained his skin high on his shoulder. How had she missed them?

“It’s the pressure. Why you’re here in Northumberland…your venture with Mr. Beckworth. Because of me, Herr Wolf singled you out.” Words spilled fast. “You could lose Khan, the horses—”

“And you.”

Air huffed from her lungs. During her impassioned argument, he’d set the book down and caressed her knee. The touch singed her. Sent messages to more sensitive places. Oh, he knew how to rub. The pad of his thumb teased her inner thigh with whisper-soft contact. Her legs folded under her body opened wider to give him better access. Her hems inched up her thighs, nudged by his tattooed arm.

Anticipation flooded her cleft. “H-have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

“About you? I’m close to a solution. One that sends the Wolf from our door.”

His voice rasped as though he’d spent all night in a smoky tavern. The effect tantalized, the same as his hand stroking her stocking-covered knee. Men had touched her knee before, but his touch turned her on end.

“I don’t despise you for what’s happened,” he said, one finger twirling her garter bow. “I despise myself. The setback at Atal’s made me more determined to change my life.” His laugh was dry as rust. “Ironically, I had to lose to win.”

Grim honesty pricked her heart. The loathing she witnessed wasn’t for her or his circumstances. It was for himself. Hazel eyes perused her while he played with her garter. Tiredness sketched thin lines under his eyes. He was in control, yet with his lips parted, the angle of his head near hers… He sought a kiss, but he didn’t.

He craved intimacy. He craved her.

She could be balancing atop a narrow fence. The fall would break her. In her mind, she teetered on, one foot in front of the other. His churlishness wouldn’t stop her. This was about being with Marcus, meeting need for need and not looking back.

“What will you do?”

Skilled hands rucked up one side of her skirt to her hip. Cold air kissed molten skin between her legs. Marcus smoothed his palm from her hip to knee, the fire’s hot orange glow bouncing off his skin. She was still sitting on her heels with her legs folded beneath her.

A little pressure from his hand and her skirts were at her hips. She was open to him.

Her breath caught.