Free The Seduction of Lord Stone by Anna Campbell Page A

glowing creature who had knocked society for six earlier in the season. Knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself, he caught one of those restless hands. “Stop tearing at your frock. You’ll make a hole in it.”
    Her hand jerked, but she didn’t pull away. She spoke in a rush. “I’m sorry for the things I said after the Oldhams’ ball. I was horrible to you.” She misunderstood his frown and plunged on. “Perhaps you don’t remember. It’s more than a month ago, after all.”
    Hearing she’d given herself to West? He’d carry that scar until his dying day. “I remember,” he said in a low voice.
    “You were kind when I was ill.”
    “Don’t be a goose, Caro. As if I’d leave you in the lurch.”
    She glanced at him quickly, too quickly for him to interpret her expression. “I know. And instead of being properly grateful, I said some stupid, mean, untrue things.”
    Suddenly he was extremely interested. “What sort of things?”
    Her hand tightened on his. How lowering for this notorious rake that the touch of her hand was more powerful than the most daring caress from any other woman.
    “I lied to you.”
    Her voice was so muffled, he leaned in to hear. Her scent drifted toward him. Familiar. Exotic. Alluring. Lemon soap. Warmth. A hint of sexual musk that had every hair on his body standing up. “Did you?”
    “Yes. West and I aren’t lovers. He hasn’t even kissed me.”
    Anger had Silas flinging away until he couldn’t see her. The bitter memory of his despair this last month strangled any relief he might have felt. Anyway, what was there to be relieved about? Her plan to take West to her bed hadn’t changed. This confession gave Silas a short reprieve, nothing more.
    “Why in Hades are you telling me this?” he grated out, curling his hands hard over the edge of the bench. Otherwise he was likely to grab those slender shoulders and give her a good shake until she started thinking straight.
    “You were so angry with me. I knew you didn’t approve.” Her voice developed an edge. “Although what I do with West is none of your business.”
    “The devil it’s not.”
    “I shouldn’t have come,” she muttered. “I’d hoped we could be friends again. I hate the way that lately everything we say feels like a bullet fired from a gun.”
    “I’ll wager talking to West is easier.” He cursed the words the minute they emerged, and he turned to apologize—again. But her devastated expression choked him to silence.
    “Why do you say such things? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
    “And of course, you always know better,” he snapped.
    She squared her shoulders and regarded him like something slimy eating his seedlings. “I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Silas. I came here with nothing but good will, and now I want to clout you with a flowerpot.”
    He sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t enough to stop him saying the last thing he wanted. “Perhaps it’s too late for us to find common ground.”
    When her eyes darkened with renewed hurt, guilt stabbed him. “I’m truly sorry if you feel like that. Perhaps I should go.” She veered toward the door with a clumsiness he’d never seen in her before, not even when she’d been near collapse at the Oldhams’ ball. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Lord Stone.”
    Bothered him? She drove him absolutely insane. “I suppose you’re going to continue with this absurd pursuit of West. You know, if he wanted you, he’d do the running.”
    “Perhaps he’s a kinder man than you and he’s giving me time to make up my mind,” she said in a muffled voice.
    “Like hell he is.” He lunged after her and seized her arm in an implacable grip, all his honorable intentions about letting her choose her own way dissolving to ash. “In the meantime, while West dawdles, you’re going without kisses. That just isn’t good enough. A woman like you needs kisses. Lots of them.”
    She trembled in his hold.