Free Lord Langley Is Back in Town by Elizabeth Boyle

house.
    Minerva Sterling, the last remaining dowager Marchioness of Standon, held a spark of fire inside her heart.
    He knew that for certain. For he’d felt the heat of her passionate nature when he’d held her.
    When he’d stolen that kiss from her lips. With his common, low lips.
    Speaking of which . . . “Truly? You thought my kiss low? Common?”
    Just as he suspected, her gaze flew up and met his.
    Because this was the difference between Lady Standon and her houseguests—for when confronted with the truth about a moment of passion, she gaped at him wide-eyed with guilt and blushed like a May day lass.
    “Come now, Lady Standon,” he said, closing the space between them. “Would it be as bad as all that to be engaged to me?”
    “B e engaged to you?” Minerva sputtered. “Do I really need to answer that?”
    “Apparently not,” he mused. “Though I found our kiss quite delightful.”
    “I did not,” she lied. And worse yet, one glance at the insufferable man told her quite clearly that he didn’t believe her.
    Not in the least.
    Did he really have to grin like that? It reminded her of the moment he’d hauled her up in his arms, just before he’d put his lips to hers and—
    Minerva scooted around the chair and put it between them. Small comfort it was, because she knew this flimsy piece of furniture would hardly stop such a rogue.
    “It seems, my lady,” he said, flicking a glance at her choice of protection and giving it scant regard, “we have reached an impasse. For I need a betrothed and you refuse me, even though we’ve been discovered in flagrante delicto .”
    “We were no such thing!” Minerva shot back. “You caught me unawares. I had no opportunity to protest.”
    He grinned again. “No opportunity? Are you certain about that?”
    Minerva paused and was about to make a quick retort, but instead found herself replaying those moments over in her head. Slowly. Step by step.
    And wished she hadn’t. For in every second, from the time he’d taken her in his arms, in the slow descent of his lips onto hers, she could have stopped him.
    And she hadn’t.
    “You took me by surprise,” she brazened.
    “I suppose I did,” he drawled slowly, pushing aside the chair and moving toward her.
    She shook her finger at him. “Oh, no, you don’t!”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Come near me again!” she told him, dodging past him and opening up her door.
    “So we are back to our impasse.”
    “There is no impasse,” she told him. “You and your paramours can leave my house. Leave me out of this madness!”
    “If you insist,” he said, crossing the room and making as if he was going to leave, but he stopped halfway to the stairs.
    “Unless, that is,” he began, “you can think of a reason why you might want me to stay.” His gaze fell to her mouth, to her lips to be exact.
    Minerva pressed them together. Tightly.
    “I could be of service to you, Lady Standon, whether you realize it or not.” He eased closer to her, his boot conveniently planted at the base of the door so she couldn’t shut it.
    Not that it would matter much now that the hinges were in ruins.
    “Don’t you dare!” she managed.
    He stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “If you insist.”
    “I do.”
    He pulled his foot free and went toward the stairs again. “Until the morning, my lady.” And after making a short, elegant bow, he began to ascend the stairs.
    Up? What the devil? Minerva blinked and stepped out in the hallway. “Where do you think you are going?”
    He glanced at her, then up the dark stairwell, and then back at her. “To my room,” he said as he continued to slowly climb.
    “Your wha-a-a-t?” she managed as she followed after him, stopping at the landing.
    “My room,” he repeated, having stopped a few steps shy of the next landing. “The one you’ve been graciously providing me for . . . oh, let me see . . . a sennight, is it? Yes, I do believe I’ve been here a little over a