To Win a Lady's Heart (The Landon Sisters) Read Free

together in a locked room. Alone.”
    The word “alone” was all it took. It conjured images—did things to him. Physical things. Things that might prove useful lurid fodder for when he was by himself in bed tonight.
    Whatever effect she might have on him, he did not have on her.
    “A room locked from the outside.” She spoke offhandedly, as if stating the obvious. “I hardly think anyone will look askance on a simple mistake.”
    He shook his head. “It’s a risk I can’t take.”
    Instant regret at the careless words stung him, even before she sobered and drew her book close against her chest. She kept her gaze level, but her voice dropped a notch. “It’s not our fault.”
    Hell. Was he a gentleman or a pigheaded blunderer?
    “I mean for your sake, of course.”
    She seemed to pick up on his meaning. “Oh, I think we all know my reputation is quite safe with you, my lord.”
    The unsated male in him roared, insisting upon the satisfaction of proving himself once and for all. Nothing was so provoking to the demands of reason than this madness inside. Corbeau had nothing to prove, not to anyone. Not to her, not to the world, not to himself.
    He kept in his current place next to the door. Internally, however, he found himself losing footing, the last remnants of the steadiness for which he prided himself slipping away. “Safe enough with me?” His tenor had sunk to a steely low.
    Her brows crossed. “I implied no challenge by what I said.”
    “Didn’t you?”
    “Really, my lord, you’re being quite—quite…”
    “Quite what?”
    “Quite not yourself.”
    “And what am I?”
    She halted a moment, thinking as she gave him a puzzled look. “Not this, my lord, certainly.”
    Corbeau lifted his chin to stare down at her. “What if I were after a kiss? What then?”
    Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “Would you dare steal one?”
    “Steal one? No, Lady Grace, indeed I would not.” Her quiet allure was growing louder by the second as all the things he’d ever imagined doing to her replayed in his mind. “I would only take what was generously proffered.”
    She frowned. “I always knew you had a high opinion of yourself. I never believed it would manifest in such a way as this, though.”
    “A high opinion of myself? Is that what you think of me?”
    “What am I to think of you but what I am left to construct for myself? It’s not as if you ever deign to speak to me.”
    “Do you want me to speak to you?”
    It was the wrong question. The answer didn’t matter. He couldn’t speak to her. He couldn’t be near her. If he knew what was good for him, he’d flee to the continent. If it weren’t for his sister Hetty, he would.
    Dash it all, why hadn’t some other man had the decency to do the right thing by Lady Grace and bring her to the altar? Married, she’d be no temptation to him.
    The voices at the back of his mind mocked him for the rank lie. This woman would tempt him no matter what her state. Thank goodness she wasn’t married, saving him the dishonor—the horror—of lusting after another man’s wife.
    But Corbeau would consider the rational side of things later. Much later. Because for now, her color went high—and yes, the woman’s reaction made his pride flare. She did want him to speak to her. If that was all he could have, by God, he’d take it.
    One hand still clutching her book, she used the other to brush her skirts. She looked slightly nervous, but spoke with arch playfulness. “It might raise my estimation of your manners if you suffered through the attempt. I’m not asking for much, no more than once a year. I wouldn’t want to put you through too much trouble.”
    “So I suppose this will count as my yearly attempt, then?”
    “Oh, certainly.” Lady Grace nodded with false earnestness in step with their banter. “And once we’re free of the storeroom, you needn’t trouble yourself again until November next. That will give you ample time to ponder which