Free Loving Lord Ash by Sally Mackenzie Page A

you are.”
    Carnal urges? She’d like to show him some carnal urges. Very, very much—
    No! No, she would not, or certainly not now, before they had settled anything. And he would just reject her if she were to be so bold; he thought her base enough to break her wedding vows with Roger and countless other men.
    And she thought the same of him . . .
    But that was different. Men—especially the male members of the ton—weren’t expected to keep their wedding vows. Even back when she was a girl at the castle, she’d heard the servants talk about how the guests behaved—or, rather, misbehaved—and how unusual it was that the Duke of Greycliffe was faithful to his duchess. He was the only peer in England who never strayed, they said.
    Hell, she knew firsthand of the ton’s profligate ways. If she wanted to be the loose woman everyone thought her, she’d have no shortage of married nobles eager to oblige her. She’d had to turn far too many offers of that nature down, sometimes with the aid of an elbow or other sharp object.
    “Of course.” She signed the paper and handed Kit the pencil. “Will we be returning to the manor in the morning?”
    Kit shook his head as he signed, too. “I don’t wish to share a house with your beautiful footman.”
    “Why?” Kit was far more handsome than Roger. “And I thought you’d let Roger go.”
    “I’ll admit I was too precipitous in that.” He stared at her, his eyes the color of slate, as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “If I punish him for falling prey to your wiles, I likely would have to replace the entire household.”
    “Blast it, Kit. If you are going to continue to insult me, our deal is off.”
    He looked at her, his face expressionless, and then nodded. “I apologize. You are quite right. Since we have agreed to try this, we should give our plan the best chance of success, which is why I do not wish to return to the manor. Forgive me, but I prefer not to test your willpower so quickly.” He reached for the brandy bottle.
    If only Kit knew he was more likely to be the target of the staff’s amorous attentions than she was. “May I have a glass as well?”
    His brows went up. “Do you drink brandy?”
    “Occasionally.” She and Roger and Dennis sometimes shared a bottle in the evenings.
    He poured her a glass. She took it and looked around. The room had hardly enough space for the table and the bed....
    Oh, damn. Where were they going to sleep?
    She wouldn’t think about that now.
    “Then if we’re not returning to the manor, where do you propose we do go? To Greycliffe Castle to live with your mother and father?”
    Kit scowled as he sipped his brandy and leaned back against the bedpost, focusing her attention on the bed again.
    The bed that suddenly looked very small.
    Something hot and needy shivered low in her stomach.
    “Yes, that’s what I had thought,” Kit said, “but now that you put it that way, I can see it is perhaps not the best idea.”
    She nodded. “And Percy’s estate is nearby.” The thought of Percy cooled any misplaced ardor she might be feeling. She did not wish to see Percy ever again.
    Kit’s thunderous expression indicated he agreed with her. “True. And Percy has been short of funds recently, so he might be rusticating.” He shook his head. “I think our only choice is to go up to the London house.”
    “London?” Good God. She’d never been to Town—and she never wanted to go. “Are you mad? What about the ton? What about all those dreadful gossips?” Perhaps it would be better to go to the castle. It was a big place with extensive grounds. Maybe they could avoid the duke and duchess most of the time.
    But could she avoid Percy? Given the opportunity, he was sure to make a nuisance of himself.
    “I grant you it is not ideal, but we won’t be going to any society events. If we’re careful, we should be able to elude the gabble-grinders.” He smiled. “And I confess I wouldn’t mind seeing