Tempt the Devil Read Free Page B

fingers. It was the first time he’d touched her flesh. Her skin was fine and cool and faintly perfumed. Soap perhaps. But beneath the flowery sweetness lurked a female essence that lured him to sin. He mightn’t barter his place in heaven for a night in her arms, but she certainly smelled like paradise.
    â€œMiss Raines. No Lord Peregrine?”
    â€œI always hold these discussions alone,” she said coolly, withdrawing her hand and gliding across to a laden tea table. Even the jaded Erith yearned after the delicious fragrance of her as she moved away. “Or do you require a chaperon, my lord?”
    He bit back a snort of laughter. He’d been right about her yesterday. She was a forward baggage with no proper respect for his standing. His interest piqued, focused. This was quarry worth the hunting. The first in a long time.
    â€œMy reputation will survive half an hour in your company.”
    Half an hour now. Decadent days to come. Sensual anticipation swirled into turbulence at the thought.
    â€œI’m pleased to hear it.”
    The voluptuous mouth that had haunted his dreams quirked into a wry smile. Good God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamt of a woman. Or a living woman, at least.
    With the grace that invested every movement, she gestured toward a chair opposite her. “Please sit down, my lord.”
    He took his place and, apart from answering how he preferred his tea and whether he wanted a sandwich or cake, watched her in silence. Yesterday he’d wondered if tea were a euphemism for something more interesting. Apparently not. He could already tell his chances of a quick tumble in this oppressively elaborate room were less than none.
    It was like taking tea with his sister. If not for the blazing sexual awareness in the air.
    She was less formally dressed than yesterday. The light green muslin set off her creamy skin and tawny hair to perfection. He’d been right about her height. When she stood to greet him, her head reached his chin. It was a rare woman who came that close to staring him eye-to-eye.
    He’d already decided she was a rare woman.
    â€œYou know why I’m here,” he said once he had her full attention. Most women who attracted the Earl of Erith’s fancy worked hard to keep it. Olivia Raines was as calm as a deaf dowager at a charity musicale. “I want to be your lover.”
    A blunter approach than usual, but something in him insisted this woman wouldn’t respond to a hypocritical wooing. He remembered her flaunting that ridiculous fan under his nose yesterday. She’d dared him to be shocked, the impudent wench.
    He hadn’t been shocked. But he’d most definitely been intrigued.
    Another twitch of those lips, although she didn’t smile. Today he noticed a small dark mole near the corner of her mouth. The need to taste that velvety spot then possess her mouth with his surged in on a tide of heat.
    Devil take it. He hadn’t got excited at the thought of a kiss since he was a boy lusting after the chambermaids.
    And he was undoubtedly excited. Thank God the table hid quite how titillating he found her elegant detachment.
    â€œStraight to the point, I see,” she said musingly.
    She lifted her cup to take a sip. It rankled that her hand was perfectly steady. He suspected she wasn’t impressed with the great Earl of Erith. An unfamiliar situation. Particularly when he approached a member of the demimonde. His fortune, if nothing else, always gained him an eager hearing.
    â€œWould you prefer something more indirect?”
    He hated that his voice betrayed his annoyance. Who wasthis flibbertigibbet of a female to needle him? Yet she did. More than he cared to admit.
    â€œNo. I find your frankness…refreshing.” She replaced her teacup and regarded him with distant curiosity. He’d built a brilliant diplomatic career on his ability to read the most subtle signals. For the life