Free Wicked by Cheryl Holt Page A

to proceed with Stanley. I’m fascinated and charmed.”
    “You shouldn’t be.”
    “I am.”
    When he stood so near to her, he could feel a current of energy flowing between them. He’d never experienced such a stirring sensation and couldn’t seem to tamp it down. He didn’t want to tamp it down. He wanted to fan the flames, wanted to let it grow and grow until it spiraled into an inferno that couldn’t be controlled.
    Where would it lead? Where would it end? The answers to those questions were alarming.
    She was Stanley’s. She’d always be Stanley’s, and James couldn’t forget that fact. Still, he was a cad and scapegrace. Stanley would be the first to complain about it. If James took liberties, if he misbehaved, wasn’t it expected? Who would ever know? It wasn’t as if he’d shout the news to the servants.
    “Close your eyes,” he murmured.
    She frowned. “Why?”
    “Just close them.”
    To his surprise, she obeyed.
    The woman was a trusting ninny! She claimed to have heard rumors about him, but clearly, they weren’t the worst ones. He was an avowed libertine, and they were alone in an isolated wing of the house. He might perpetrate any wickedness, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
    Not that he would harm her, but still…
    Before he could change his mind, before she could change hers, he dipped down and kissed her.
    In the entire history of kisses, it wasn’t much about which to brag. He didn’t grab her and crush her to his chest. He didn’t yank the ribbon from her hair and run his fingers through the auburn tresses. He simply rested his palm on her waist and touched his lips to hers.
    As he drew away, he was shocked to find that his pulse was racing, his blood pounding in his veins. He was awash with lust, his body crying out for him to ravish her, and the strength of the urge frightened him.
    Her eyes fluttered open, and as she peered up at him, she looked young and confused and very, very pretty.
    “You shouldn’t have done that,” she quietly scolded.
    He shrugged. “I’m renowned for doing what I shouldn’t. I’ve always been that way.”
    “It’s so wrong. Everything about this place is wrong. Mr. Oswald. You. Vicar Oswald. Summerfield. The betrothal.”
    “It’s why I think you’re so brave to have come.”
    “Would you take me away from here and marry me yourself?” she stunned him by asking.
    “See what I mean? You’re so courageous.” He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t have the resources to rescue you. I don’t have the funds or a home of my own, and I’m so aggravatingly vain. You wouldn’t want me as a husband.”
    She nodded, her cheeks flushing with shame. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s all right. I’d help you if I could.”
    “You don’t have to humor me.”
    “It’s not foolish to hope for a better conclusion.”
    “Well, I’ve made my bed, and it appears it’s time to lie in it.” She stepped away and straightened, and she seemed different somehow, as if she’d erected a barrier she wouldn’t let him breach again.
    “You have to go now,” she insisted.
    “Yes, I suppose.”
    “Are you and Mr. Drake leaving for London?”
    “That’s the plan.”
    “When will it be?”
    “Maybe tomorrow or maybe in a few weeks.”
    “I can’t keep bumping into you, Mr. Talbot. We have to avoid each other.”
    “I don’t want to avoid you.”
    “We have to, and we most assuredly can’t be together like this. Please stay away.”
    “Call me James.” He was absurdly eager for her to speak his name. “Call me James and perhaps I’ll comply with your request.”
    “No, you won’t, and you must depart at once. I believe I’ve betrayed Mr. Oswald sufficiently for one evening, don’t you?”
    She slid away and went to the door. She peeked into the hall and gestured for him to hurry out.
    He hesitated, debating whether he should argue, debating whether he should remain, but she didn’t realize she had no