The Accidental Courtesan Read Free Page B

able to speak, he cursed his poor judgment for dipping heavily into last evening’s entertainment, and for not ordering the maids to close the drapes before he left.
    The belated celebration of the opening of his shipyard had gone far past a few drinks with his cousin and his companions. He wasn’t clear on much from the previous evening, but he did know one thing. He’d been carried home and up to bed while singing some nonsensical and very slurred Irish ditty. After that, the night was all a blur.
    The clock chimed ten, and he pulled the sheet over his head with the intention of collecting a few more hours of sleep. He’d just begun to chase Morpheus back into oblivion when a light hint of lemon and cinnamon drifted up his nose to tease his battered senses.
    He jerked upright on the bed. Pain shot through his head, and he cursed again.
    A woman. He darted a glance around for signs of her but found nothing. Still, he wasn’t completely deterred. A beautiful woman had been in his bed sometime during the night. He was sure of it. Well, mostly sure. He’d kissed her and tasted her lemon-scented skin and lush lips.
    Hadn’t he? Then where was she? Unless she’d climbed into the wardrobe or shimmied under the bed, she wasn’t there.
    He pressed both palms against his forehead and picked diligently through his muddled brain for a clear thought. The attempt proved futile. It might take a week to recover fully from his drunken stupor. Time he didn’t have.
    No, he assured himself, she hadn’t been a dream. Her lingering scent on his pillow proved she was real, and not some delightful fantasy he’d conjured up for his amusement.
    Gavin lifted the sheet and looked beneath. He was still wearing his trousers. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased he hadn’t bedded the mysterious wench or bereft she’d escaped, unscathed, from his fumbling attempts to seduce her. With a face like hers, from what he could remember through the haze, it would be shameful not to recall every moment of their coupling.
    What he did recall was the softness of her mouth and the scent of lemon and spice in her blonde—or was it brown—hair? He also seemed to recollect some sort of offer to become his mistress. But had the woman actually made such a bold offer, or was it a seductive dream?
    Bloody hell! His head was ready to explode, and frustration weaved through the pain. If she’d been a whore given to him as a gift by Charles, she shouldn’t be too difficult to hunt down.
    He grinned. Next time he had her in his bed, he’d be fully sober and ready to enjoy the favors she’d offered. After all, it was high time to take a mistress. Brief couplings at brothels, with women of questionable cleanliness, had never appealed to him. He wanted a beauty to share the pleasurable intimacies of his bed. He wanted this mysterious beauty.
    Knuckles rapped on the door and the panel swung open. Charles, Earl of Seabrook, strode into the room without invitation, dressed in lordly attire and ready to face the day. A wide grin split his handsome face. Clearly, one of them wasn’t suffering the effects of too many drinks.
    â€œI came to check your breathing, cousin, before I venture off to Bath.” He grinned stupidly and claimed a chair by the window. Charles rarely slept past noon and was already impeccably dressed for his trip. A late night out hadn’t changed his habits. “I wasn’t sure a man could survive such high amounts of whiskey and live to see morning. I expected to find you cold and dead.”
    Gavin shot him a watery glare and slumped back on the pillows. “I seem to recall you kept my glass filled. Your tab at White’s must be a level fortune.”
    Charles chuckled. “I can cover it. My father left me a bloody king’s ransom.” He stretched out his long, thin legs. Charles and Gavin revealed a hint of their shared paternal bloodline in