by Sophia Nash
She raised her eyes to his with anger. “I am not.” She deliberately reached up and placed her arms around his neck. She tugged his neck down to her and placed her passive lips on his.
She felt him laugh against her lips. “Oh no, Mrs. Lovering,” he said. “That’s not the way of it at all.” He leaned one of his hands against the apple tree behind her as he pulled her waist close to his body with the other arm, forcing her to arch into his broad chest. “This is the way,” he whispered as he lightly bit at her lower lip and then used the tip of his tongue to gain entrance beyond her lips. She felt awash with heretofore unknown longing and excitement. No one had ever kissed her like this. His tongue urged her to respond in kind, as she yielded fully to his embrace. She shivered with desire as a small moan escaped her lips.
She breathed deeply. The masculine scent of male and cologne made her throat ache. She could hear his ragged breaths as his mouth moved down her neck, feathering kisses along the way. He gathered her hand in his other and raised it to his lips.
“Really, my dear, we should continue this in the cottage nearby,” the earl whispered.
His words jolted Jane into action. She shook off the mesmerizing trance and confronted the earl. “I think not.”
“Mrs. Lovering, you are a widow. I am a widower. What more need be said? Do you not long for a liaison? I am here for you now, for the asking,” he whispered as he nipped the lobe of her ear. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed gently.
“You are very kind to offer. However, I am not inclined.” Her words hid the truth; she was terrified by his suggestion. As Jane did not want to show her fear and naiveté, she continued, “Perhaps another time, if I am ever inclined that is.”
Lord Graystock gazed at her. “If I did not know you to have been married, I would take your reaction to be that of a very green girl. Or are you just a coquette?” he said.
He could see through her. Jane reached down to retrieve the wrap skirt and secured it. She dared not say another word, lest she say the wrong thing. Distance was the answer. She walked to her horse and mounted without looking back.
“I hope I have not scared you. It wasn’t my intention.”
“You did not scare me, my lord. I am expected by my aunt. She was unhappy with the idea of my riding your horse. It seems a groom’s sister alarmed her with a description of your brute. It is long past the time that I should be on my way.”
“There will be no further training sessions, then?”
Jane refused to take the bait. “Good day to you, sir.”
“And good morning to you, Mrs. Lovering,” he said, and stood, looking after her long after she had gone from sight.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sophia Nash’s first ten novels won thirteen national awards including the prestigious RITA Award and two spots on the American Library Association's “Top Ten Romances of the Year.” Sophia was born in Switzerland, raised in France and the United States, but says her heart resides in Regency England. Her ancestor, an infamous French admiral who traded epic cannon fire with the British Royal Navy, is surely turning in his grave. Before pursuing her long held dream of writing Historicals, Sophia was an award winning television producer for CBS, a congressional speechwriter, and a nonprofit CEO.
Visit www.sophianash.com for more information about the author’s books, excerpts, contact information, links to Facebook/twitter, and a witty dictionary of Regency era vocabulary.
