Free The Uncatchable Miss Faversham by Elizabeth Moss

strength only emphasised by his tight-fitting jacket. His waist was slim though, drawing her eye – albeit reluctantly – down to his powerful thighs encased in buckskin pantaloons.
        She understood so much more now about the physical needs of her body than when he had first touched her at eighteen. If he were to make love to her now, how would she respond?
        ‘Lord Sallinger,’ she managed, her voice unsteadier than she would have liked. He moved closer, and something like panic flashed through her at his unexpected proximity. ‘Charlotte will be back at any moment. She has gone upstairs to – ’
        ‘Kiss her brat good night?’ he supplied, his tone ironic. Sallinger saw her swiftly raised eyebrows and shrugged. ‘Oh, I’ve affection enough for the boy, but not a parent’s love. He makes enough damned noise about the place to wake the dead.’
        Eleanor found herself shivering again.
        Lord Sallinger must have caught the tiny, involuntary reaction, because he stepped closer. ‘Cold?’
        ‘Not enough to signify,’ she said hurriedly.
        Lord Sallinger stood motionless, bare inches away, facing her with an unfathomable expression in his dark eyes.
        Eleanor turned her gaze on the moonlit gardens, not daring to look up into his face again. She did not know what to think of his behaviour. At dinner, his lordship had seemed so cold and distant – always polite, urbane, yet cold nonetheless.
        Out here, there was a huskier note in his voice which seemed to suggest intimacy.
        She shook away the impossible thought, disdaining to fall into that glittering trap a second time. Nathaniel did not care a button for her, had never truly cared for her, and was making his contempt clear with every cutting word aimed in her direction, every dismissive turn of his head.
        ‘Eleanor,’ he began, frowning down at her.
        ‘My lord?’
        ‘For pity’s sake, don’t ‘My lord’ me as though you were some blushing village maiden.’ His voice was low and exasperated. Suddenly, he seized her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, forcing her into contact with the warmth of his body. ‘As though you had no knowledge of this!’
        ‘Nathaniel!’ she exclaimed, both shocked and traitorously excited by the impropriety of his action. ‘Let go of me at once! Are you foxed?’
        ‘Not far off,’ he agreed, his anger evident from his shrug. ‘Though it makes no odds. Drunk or sober, I’d still do the same.’
        Her eyes warred angrily with his, her temper mounting to match his. ‘Be so good as to unhand me, sir, or I shall summon assistance. Don’t think I won’t!’
        ‘But if you were to call out, sweet Nell,’ he responded silkily, ‘I should be forced to silence you.’ His tight smile left her in no doubt what he meant by that insinuation. ‘I won’t have my servants gossiping below stairs about me. Nor my sister gawping at us, for that matter. This is between you and me, my love.’
        The use of her pet name, ‘Nell’, was an insult to her ear; it was the brush of a nettle against bare skin, stinging her with memories she would much rather forget.
        ‘There is no you and me,’ she insisted, and tried to twist away from his grasp.
        ‘No?’ His voice was hoarse. ‘It seems you need to be reminded of the truth, Eleanor.’
        To her horror, Lord Sallinger caught her up in his strong arms, clutching her forcefully against his chest.
        For a moment, her face was smothered in his elegant white shirt and cravat. Beneath the masculine scent of his clothes, she caught the thud of his heart and felt dizzy, unable to breathe. Her legs were suddenly too weak to hold her weight, only the powerful circle of his arms supporting her as she leant against his chest.
        Surely he would not go through with his threat and kiss her? She was not sure she could bear that, to be in his