Checkmate, My Lord - By Tracey Devlyn Page 0,37

my cause. No matter the obstacles placed in her path.”

“You make me sound heroic.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I assure you, I am not. Merely practical.”

He studied the pulse point on her slender throat, noted its frantic rhythm. Blood streamed into his extremities. “I don’t believe you. My tenants provided several testimonials yesterday that would make you eligible for sainthood.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a breathless voice. “Unlike your tenants, I had nothing to lose by holding Mr. Blake accountable for his actions.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ashcroft.” He raised his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers along the curve of her neck. “Unlike you, not everyone would have bothered to right the injustice.”

“M-my, lord, what are you doing?”

He settled a hand on her waist, bringing their bodies closer together. His gaze transfixed on her lush full lips. Lips that would mold to his in an exquisite embrace. His insides curled into a tight knot of anticipation. He shouldn’t want her, his agent’s widow, but he did, with staggering force. Ashcroft’s final request faded behind his fevered desire.

It was then he knew she was in danger. And perhaps so was he.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“My lord—”

Soft flesh, luscious warmth, and an inexplicable rightness assailed his senses the moment he covered her mouth with his. He deepened the kiss and pulled her unresisting body into the cradle of his arms. Her delicate frame was a flawless fit, made for him alone.

The small hands resting on his chest inched their way around his torso and squeezed with a force that verged on desperation. He cradled her sweet face with unsteady hands. His breaths came more rapidly and his body sought a closer contact. He was losing control, and the realization cut through the fog of desire clouding his mind. Ending the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and fought to temper his erratic heartbeat.

Think, Somerton! Catherine was under his protection and in mourning. Two inviolable conditions. Until a year and a day, her marriage vows still breathed life, a condition he knew she would honor even though her marriage died years ago. That she had accepted his kiss was unexpected and more than a little stirring.

“I believe it best if you release me now, my lord.”

Removing his arms and backing away proved surprisingly difficult. She took a moment to smooth out the creases in her dress and tuck a few stray hairs back in place. Sebastian watched it all with a resignation that lay heavily on his chest. He did not want to lose this. Not yet. His honor be damned.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone against his better judgment, or the last time a woman had compelled him to lose control. Both situations would normally cause him to pause, to step away and not look back. Maintaining control kept those around him safe.

But he couldn’t turn away. His attraction to the widow was tangible and invigorating. Could he do it? Could he pretend to live a normal life in Showbury? For a few short days?

He had to try. For a period of time, he wanted to submerse himself in raw, unadulterated pleasure. Then, and only then, would he go back to his cold, passionless existence. If he did not seize this rare opportunity, he would regret it always. And he was damned tired of regrets. He would deal with the guilt later.

“Should I apologize?” he asked.

She sent him a sad smile. “No more so than I, my lord.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not sure I could have managed any real sincerity.”

“You do not mince words, do you?”

“On the contrary,” he said. “I have done so on many occasions, but with you I do not think it necessary. Or was I wrong?”

“No.”

Her quiet confirmation seared his blood. “I have need of your services, after all.”

“E-excuse me?”

“Thanks to Mr. Blake, my tenants have become rather suspicious of my commitment.”

“In time, they will see the truth of the matter.”

“I agree,” he said. “With your help.”

“Rest assured,” she said, “I will do what I can to spread the word of your steward’s perfidy. A casual word in Mrs. Walker’s ear should set things into motion.”

“If you are willing, I should like more from you than a whispered word to Showbury’s most dedicated gossip.”

Pink crept into her cheeks, and her lips thinned. “I’m not sure what else I can offer, my lord. You were not interested in my knowledge of the local craftsmen.”

He

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