Free The Seduction of Phaeton Black by Jillian Stone

including this flesh and blood she-cat. He exhaled a low sigh and eased back into his chair. At least he could take pleasure in a bit of peace and quiet.
    “I can’t sleep.”
    The hired help was up on an elbow, rubbing her eyes.
    “I would so enjoy fetching you a hot milk, but there is no cream in the larder. Anything else, miss? Perhaps a fairy story?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Conversation will have to do.”
    He poured the last of the chilled water through a slatted spoon.
    “Have you ever been in love, Mr. Black?”
    “A very long time ago. I try not to think of it.” He picked up his glass. “One needs to be careful about digging up the past. It can be a dirty business.”
    “I thought not.” She huffed.
    “Ah, you’ve had a thought. My congratulations. Do you wish to share it, Miss Jones?”
    Those plump lips formed a pouty, lopsided smirk. “You’ve never been in love.”
    He tilted his head, considering her statement. “Well, that makes the two of us. I believe you informed me after we had intercourse for the second time in so many hours that you do not believe in love. Do I remember correctly?”
    “There is no such thing as love. There are only proofs of love.”
    “Proofs?”
    “You heard right, Mr. Black. Proofs of love. It is what my father taught me. Pay little attention to a man’s words of love, he would say. But, watch closely his behavior. There, you will find the truth in his heart.”
    “Proof of pirates. Proof of love.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and caught her ogling.
    She swallowed. “You have very nice limbs, long and muscular from what I can see under the fabric of your trousers.”
    “Do you make a habit of studying masculine physiques?”
    “It is important to know if a man is better suited to climb rigging or stoke a furnace.”
    He studied her quietly for a moment. “What sort of proofs suggest a man’s affection?”
    She smiled so sweetly he was taken aback.
    A terrifying thought crossed his mind. “Oh no. Please tell me you don’t believe—removing you from the parish home was a proof of—” He scoffed. “Proof of nothing but my own madness.”
    She pushed up on both elbows. The coverlet fell off her chest, revealing dark points under a thin silk camisole. The sight encouraged him to gape. “Mr. Black, you didn’t have to come after me, now, did you?”
    He wanted to rip the dainty lace off and suckle each dark tip until it stood at attention. Another erection pressed painfully against his trouser leg.
    Phaeton leaned forward. “One chore unfinished, one task forgotten, Miss Jones, and you’ll find out just how hard my heart can be. I’ll toss you back on the street without a care.”
    The little hoyden flung herself onto the chaise and pulled the covers over her head. She mumbled something distinctly impertinent for hired help.
    “Go to the devil.”
    He lifted his glass to the bump under the blanket. “Easily done.”

Chapter Seven
    A GREY DAWN FILTERED THROUGH HIGH-PLACED WINDOWS . America blinked. The room was unfamiliar and sparsely furnished. Where was she? Oh yes, Mr. Black’s flat.
    Groggy from sleep, she pulled the covers close and nestled deeper into the sofa. The terror and sadness of the past few days had eased somewhat, especially since last night. In a rather dramatic, middle-of-the-night maneuver, Mr. Black had rescued her from the shelter and given her work. The ends of her mouth tilted upward as she recalled his grousing in the hansom cab. Tolerable enough, even somewhat comforting.
    The ill-humored male temperament didn’t phase her in the least. Papa had been a cantankerous sort, but underneath his prickly, bearish demeanor she had always found affection. Good men, the kind who take their responsibilities seriously, were often cranky. America wondered if this was true of her new employer.
    She closed her eyes and Mr. Black’s calling card came to mind.
    If what she had seen and heard last night was true, if Mr. Black