Page 83 of The Lord Meets His Lady

Loneliness and lust mixed inside her, a potent combination for a woman with nothing to lose. She pushed inside the cottage and found her way to the kitchen’s green cabinet. Orange embers flickered in the ashy hearth. Pallinsburn had won her heart, a labor of love to clean and set right.

How long she’d stay was uncertain.

How she’d stay was hers to decide.

Working in scant light, she set a bottle of brandy, a cup, and clean linen on the table. She poured the brandy and drenched the linen square in the cup. Stiff-limbed, she took the cup with her to Lord Bowles’s chamber. There, she stoked the fire and kicked off her shoes. Chin to chest, she untied her gown’s front laces, working them loose until the gown slackened. Each step was methodical. She was numb, removing layers from her body, undressing down to her shift and ripped black stockings.

She wanted to feel good again.

No sadness. No worry.

The blaze warmed her, but it didn’t take away the dullness inside her. Planting one foot on the winged chair, she raised her shift waist high. Firelight glowed on white skin and burnished curls at the apex of her thighs. She stuffed the soaked cloth into those curls. Her outer folds parted. Wetness dribbled to the floor. One finger pushed the rag up her channel.

“Ssssss,” she hissed. The sting… How long since she’d taken preventive measures?

Liquid spirits trickled down her inner thigh. Her legs tensed. Tender skin smarted inside her, but she pushed the linen up into private flesh.

Hinges creaked. She stalled and looked across the chamber, her finger high inside her quim. Lord Bowles filled the doorway. He fixated on her hand between her legs.

“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account.”

Her nipples peaked against her shift. Being watched was potent…his stare roving over her like a touch. The bulge in his breeches grew before her eyes, forcing out remnants of doubt. Smiling, she bent forward. Droplets splattered on the floor, and with one more nudge, the linen blocked her womb.

She withdrew her finger and sucked the brandy-wet tip. “Are you thirsty?”

His body visibly jolted at her carnal invitation. “This is unexpected.” Voice dipping low, he adjusted his placket.

“Surprise,” she whispered.

Holding her shift waist high with one hand, she untied her hair ribbon with the other. It was a balancing act with one foot on the winged chair, but she wanted him to see her slick, pink folds.

She wanted him to take what he saw.

By the predatory gleam in his eyes, he would.

Her pulse skipped faster. Being desired gave a woman certain control. Being desired by theright mangave her singular glory.

Eyeing the curls between her legs, Lord Bowles took his time advancing on her, each step measured, decisive until he stood a handsbreadth away. His warmth touched her before he did. Her skin pebbled everywhere, and her breasts thrust forward as though her body would take things from here.

The teeter of lust and loneliness leaned in favor of hot and sensual.

Gold-tipped lashes half shuttered his eyes, leaving dark crescents of color to take their fill of what she displayed. His fingers stroked her inner thigh, a slow slide ending near damp curls.

He tasted his fingers. “Brandy. You know I’ve sworn off the stuff.”

“I promise it’s for medicinal purposes only.”

His raspy chuckle tickled her skin. “Aren’t you the resourceful one? A preventive, I presume.”

“Yes.” It was all she could say. The sight of his hand on her thigh stole her breath.

“You’re enticing me. And we both know how dangerous it’d be if I took a drink.”

A shudder racked her at the image of his mouth consuming the brandy between her legs. “I-I hadn’t thought of that.”

Her lids grew heavy. Their mouths were close, his breath mingling with hers. A magnetic draw pulled her. His beautiful mouth.Him.

Slowly, slowly…their lips met. A spark burst inside her. She clutched his arm, but Lord Bowles gentled her with a long, tender kiss. The rightness of his mouth on hers was a gift.