A Tarnished Heart
Page 28
Her pulse pounded through her veins as she stared at the door, knowing he stood on the other side. All she had to do was open it and ask him in, her nude body the only invitation required. Dampness coated her pussy as she trembled with a nearly overwhelming arousal. She needed him quite badly at the moment.
What would be the harm? She was a widow and he wasn’t married—a perfectly acceptable arrangement done all the time, discreetly of course. Folks in town, including Hettie and her posse, had to know Lee was there with her alone. They’d never openly shunned her, but they also never opened their arms to Genny or Sophie. Part of that was because Henry had been such an ass he put people off. However, part of it was the fact Genny appeared one day at his side, wide-eyed and angry with a wedding band on her finger. She had not been exactly friendly to the people in Tanger that first year, and she was sure they had long memories.
So why should she care if they knew Lee was at the farm? Gabby must’ve told the townsfolk about her need for a farmhand, and everyone knew Henry had passed on. After all, he died at Aphrodite’s saloon with a beer in one hand and a whore’s tit in the other. No one would blame Genny for turning to another man for solace in her bed.
Her nipples ached to be touched and her body craved a release, one that didn’t involve her hand. Growing up, she had been witness to the ways men and women could be together, and many of them were still crystal clear in Genny’s memory. She wanted to try them with Lee, even if it meant she was a loose woman, because she sure as hell wasn’t a whore. No money was changing hands between them, simply work and trade for goods.
She wanted him, that was for certain. The question was, how much? Water puddled on the floor around her feet as she stood there, heart thumping like mad, and continued to stare at the door. Genny knew she wasn’t pretty but she’d been told her raspy voice was nice by several men. Her breasts were large and she was curvy, if not particularly tall. If she offered herself to Lee, he might say no. Was she willing to take that risk?
Genny stepped toward the door and reached for the knob.
Lee stood on the corner of the porch and stared up at the night sky. Stars winked in the velvety blackness, reminding him of just how different things were in Texas than Georgia. Even the sky looked different. He sometimes wished so hard life was like it had been before the war. It was an ache deep in his chest that could bring tears to his eyes.
He scratched at the stump of his arm and recognized the stark reminder that life would never be the way it was, no matter how hard he might wish for it. God couldn’t give back an arm, and he sure as hell couldn’t make life from the ashes of Lee’s soul.
The door to the house opened and he turned, expecting Genevieve to wave him inside for the tub. His melancholy meanderings must’ve made him slower than molasses because he had to blink twice before he realized that she was only wearing a towel.
Holy shit.
His arousal, partially sated by his own hand, roared to life like a locomotive. He stood frozen in place, unsure of exactly what he should do. She saved him the trouble of deciding when she turned to look at him.
The first thing he noticed was she was flushed, and he wasn’t sure if it was entirely from the hot water. The second thing was, her mouth was slightly open as if she was breathing hard. His heart slammed against his rib cage and he swallowed hard.
“Miz Blanchard?” he managed to croak.
“Genny please, call me Genny.” She fiddled with the towel under her arm, but she kept her focus on him. “Do you want to come inside now?”
Jesus, please us, that was a question with a hundred meanings. Lee’s body, however, knew what meaning he wanted it to be.
Genny.
Yes, that fit her better than Genevieve, a mouthful of French name he had trouble wrapping his tongue around. No doubt he’d have no trouble with her breasts though. They strained against the towel, the nipples obviously hard beneath the material.
“Mr. Blackwood?” She cleared her throat. “Lee?”
Without a sound, he strode toward her and she backed into the house. By the time she was through the doorway, he was right in front of her, his body more than ready. After he closed the door behind him, he wasn’t sure what to do next, until she dropped the towel and he dropped to his knees.
A Tarnished Heart
Leslie Dicken
She can save him—or bring him to ultimate ruin.
The Earl of Markham’s life is unraveling before his eyes. The harder he tries to pick up the frayed ends, the quicker his carefully guarded control slips from his iron grasp. Five years after the death of his wife, the threat of blackmail hangs over his son’s inheritance.
His only hope to quell the gossip before it begins lies in a headstrong young commoner as wild and free as the English countryside she loves. She is wrong for him in every way. Yet she brings life to his colorless world—and warms his heart with a fire that threatens to shatter the wall around his heart.
Lizzie Parker is content with her garden, her village and caring for her aging father. She wants no part of the glittering London Season, but her father will not be denied his wish to see to her future. Still, she plans to do everything in her power to vex the man charged with taking her away from her beloved home. The man who once broke her heart. Markham.
She never expected his kisses to tame her resistance. With each touch he rouses her senses, until suddenly she’s not at all sure where she belongs…
This book has been previously published.
Warning: Blackmail! (oh my) Secrets! (oh my) Love Scenes! (oh oh my) and even a trip to the magnificent Crystal Palace in London. You won’t be able to put this one down.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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A Tarnished Heart
Copyright © 2010 by Leslie Dicken
ISBN: 978-1-60928-116-8
Edited by Tera Kleinfelter
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2010
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