The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,70
to the window. It had been a decidedly long day.
“Yes, my lord.” Rand bowed and departed on his heel.
Con watched the street grow darker and grayer while he waited for the whisky to be sent in. Voices drifted through the ceiling, and he discerned the sound of drawers being opened and closed. This business of having a baby in the house meant the walls were never quiet. He liked it. He never felt alone here, even if he wished he were a little more included in the goings on.
Rand returned bearing whisky and a single candle. He set the whisky on a side table and went about the room lighting sconces. Con left his post at the window and strode to the makeshift sideboard. He poured out half a snifter then tossed it back. The amber liquid burned straight through his insides and he set about pouring a second round without waiting for the first to dull.
Rand left the door open behind him. The servants bustled back and forth in the hallway. For the first time, he was glad he was headed to see the canal. He had something to do. It might not be profitable yet, or even completed, but he might feel like he was succeeding if he saw the project firsthand.
Blast Elizabeth for being right about that.
She appeared in the doorway. Wisps of dark brown hair brushed against her cheeks. A green wrap draped around her slender frame. She gave the room a once-over, then, as regally as a queen, turned and walked out. “Rand!” she called down the hallway. “Where is the tea?”
She was gone but a moment, but it was long enough for Con to be struck by a sharp, swift longing to be closer to this woman who seemed to have the entire world at her command.
At least, the part of the world that excluded Polite Society.
He was struck by a bracing thought. One that turned his perspective on end. She wasn’t independent, as he imagined her to be. She needed her retinue of servants. She needed her solicitor. She needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it. But it was a clever sort of dependence. She surrounded herself with people who made her world tick, rather than people who did her work for her. She was in command…because she chose to be.
She returned and closed the door behind her. Then she gave a little half-shrug that sent her green wrap slipping into the crook of her elbow.
He watched it slide over her forearm in a swish of silk. It swayed around and down behind her.
Was that her guard, slipping?
“I suppose you had tea with your mother,” she said, “but I’m half-starved—”
He crossed the room in three strides. Her lips parted as if she meant to protest, but he didn’t allow her the chance. She took a step back, but he didn’t let her get away. He bent his head and kissed her.
She gasped when his lips touched hers. A jolt fired between them. She did desire him. He was glad he’d surprised her. He was tired of feeling one step behind her. He curved his arms around her and grasped her shoulders, bringing her closer. He liked the quiet moan that vibrated through her. He was in control, because he chose to be.
His mouth moved over hers in a hot, demanding kiss. He needed control. He needed it and she kept it from him.
Not right now, though. She’d dropped her shield. He slid his hands to her waist and pulled her deeper into the room. Her slight body was soft yet firm in his arms, her back straight and sure under his hand. She smelled like honeysuckle and a day spent out of doors. His cock swelled. He held her closer, as if he could meld them together.
He would have her unbend for him. Tonight.
Her body went taut. Then her hands were in his hair and scratching at his shoulders. She thrust her breasts against his chest and moaned softly in his ear. Her breath tickled his skin. To anyone else, she might appear to be overcome with frantic lust.
Surely, he’d die if he didn’t have her now. And yet…
It wasn’t right.
His brain knew she’d pulled away. His body refused to believe it. She’d fired her most damaging weapon at him, seduction, but he wasn’t going to cede control to her just yet.
He savored the feel of her hands roaming his back, even though he knew hers wasn’t real passion. She dug her