My Reckless Surrender - Page 2

Her gloved fists clenched on the arms of her chair before she realized the gesture contradicted her spurious calm. She straightened her fingers and sucked in a deep but inaudible breath.

Already she didn’t like this man.

No matter. All that mattered was what she gained if she persisted. One short descent into sin, and in return, she’d win everything she desired.

It seemed a fair bargain. Or at least it had until she sat in front of this surprisingly formidable man and offered to become his mistress.

She was annoyed and uncomfortable and at a disadvantage. Strangely, for all her uncertainty, she wasn’t frightened. Before she’d arrived, she expected fear to be paramount. After all, Lord Ashcroft would soon have her at his mercy.

Or at least that was what she wanted him to think.

She forced herself to speak. “I’m in Town for…experience.”

“How edifying. And am I now included in the sights of the capital, a human version of the Tower of London?”

He spoke evenly, but his question held a bite. She was disconcerted to realize he was a proud man. The perception sat incongruously with everything she knew about his prodigal appetites.

She still didn’t feel any fear. Something else. The heady awareness she taunted a tiger, perhaps.

Confused by his reaction, she didn’t answer directly. “As I said, my lord, what purpose beating around the bush? I want a lover. I’ve chosen you.”

His low laugh shivered over her skin. “Why? Have we met?”

“No.”

“So my question remains. Why me?”

“I’ve…I’ve seen you.” She cursed the betraying stammer.

Last week she’d arrived in London and glimpsed him at a distance, driving a terrifyingly fragile phaeton down Bond Street. She’d received an impression of a gentleman of fashion, one who imposed perfect discipline on his high-bred horses. Perfect discipline at odds with his unruly life. A stylishly angled hat had shaded his features although she’d noted a determined jaw and a firm, expressive mouth. Her experience with rakes was nonexistent, but she’d imagined someone less compelling, someone whose face immediately revealed his moral weakness.

“The fleeting sight of me ignited a fiery passion?” He sounded cynical, as well he might.

“No.”

Before she’d arrived, she’d decided to stick to truth as much as possible. Anyway, she doubted she could carry off an appearance of being love-struck. Not to mention she guessed any mention of love was likely to send her quarry hurtling in the opposite direction.

She swallowed, her throat tight. “Even in the country, your feats as a lover are famous.”

Another soft laugh. Another frisson of awareness down her backbone. “How…flattering.”

She knew he meant absolutely the opposite.

Damn him, why didn’t he just leap on her and have done with it? This dance of question and answer was torture. She steeled herself to continue. “I want a man to show me the pleasures of the flesh without making further claim. I want a man of reliable discretion.”

Strangely, this rogue had a reputation for keeping his mouth shut about his exploits. Most of the gossip emanated from women who had either shared his bed or knew women who did.

“So one encounter?”

Once? Good Lord, no. She didn’t endure this humiliation, sacrifice her honor for a single chance at the prize.

“I thought the summer until the ton return to Town, and scandal becomes a risk.”

“So a shabby little affair to while away a few uneventful weeks?”

“I don’t understand, my lord.” She frowned, although she knew he couldn’t see her face. Her instincts screamed that, contrary to everything she’d been led to believe, this was no simple transaction with a lusty male animal. “You seem almost…hostile.”

“Do I indeed?” This time the bite in his voice was unconcealed. “I can’t imagine why. After all, a stud bull should be delighted that his services are in demand.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Historical
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