Page 54 of How the Earl Entices

How easy it would be to surrender, to simply turn toward him and whisperyes…

He would give her pleasure, a man with that body and those eyes, one capable of making her laugh with abandon. One with the reputation of a rake and the soul of a patriot. One who thought she was beautiful even with a scar marring her cheek. For a few hours in his arms, his body moving over hers, moving inside hers…bliss.

Until he slipped from her bed.

Then it would end. How could it not, when it could only ever be physical between them? He would give his body but not his heart, not to a woman who didn’t trust him enough to share her identity. Not to a woman whom he would never love once he learned who she was and the havoc she could wreck upon his life. And in the throes of passion, if he called out her name, the name that was nothing but a lie, how would she bear it?

“No.” She blinked hard to clear the sudden stinging from her eyes. “I’m not.”

When she slipped from his lap, she froze. Her stomach lurched into her throat.

A man stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs, leaning a hip against the frame, casually watching them. At his side, his hand gripped a pistol.

“Well then.” The man crooked a brow, his gaze sliding between the two of them. “Apparently, I’ve been going to the wrong barber.”

Chapter 16

Ross stepped protectively in front of Grace, who had paled as white as her night rail.

“Don’t be frightened.” He squeezed her arm to reassure her. “This is my brother Christopher.”

“That does not make this any better,” she bit out in a hissing whisper in his ear, her fear turning to simmering anger. She folded her arms over her breasts as she tried to hide behind him. “I’m in mynight rail!”

Ross bit his cheek to keep from laughing. The brave woman who had tied him up and then coerced him into helping her had been stopped in her tracks by modesty. But he couldn’t hold back the possessiveness that warmed his chest at noting that she hadn’t cared about wearing the night rail in front of him.

“It’s all right,” Ross returned over his shoulder. He somehow managed to keep a straight face as he lied, “He’s going to be a vicar.”

A groan of mortification rose from her. “Notany better!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, and received a slap on the back from Grace.

He turned to face her, taking her shoulders and carefully keeping as much of her hidden from Kit’s view as possible. Odd, that he didn’t like the idea of his brother looking at her in her nightgown any more than she did. “Go change while I talk to Kit. I’ll introduce you when you’re dressed, all right?”

She gave a grudging nod, then leaned around him to shoot a murderous glare at his brother.

“Vicar,” Kit reminded her apologetically, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

“Carlisle,” she flung back.

With a toss of her head, she stalked into the adjoining bedroom. The door slammed shut.

“So,” Kit drawled, amusement coloring his voice, “you’ve gotten yourself an asset.”

“I’ve gotten myself a hellcat,” Ross corrected with a grimace.

“And here I was, worried about you as a fugitive on the run, alone.” Kit grinned admiringly. “Not so alone after all.”

Ross leveled a quelling look at him. The very last person he wanted to discuss with his brother was Grace. That unwillingness was born of unrealized possession and utter confusion. And a hell of a lot of frustration. So he drawled instead, “Picking locks again, I see.”

Kit slipped the pistol into its holster beneath his jacket. “Practicing for the gaol cell they’re going to toss you into.”

“Thank God.”

He grinned as he hugged Christopher. Too many times in the past fortnight he’d been certain he’d never see his brother again. Now the rush of relief nearly overwhelmed him.

He slapped Kit’s shoulders as he stepped back. “Evelyn got the message to you without any problems, then?”

“You have no idea,” Kit muttered with a pained expression.