Free A Bluestocking Christmas by Monica Burns

uncle’s employ for years and his allegiance had easily switched to Ivy when she’d inherited her uncle’s fortune.
    “Lord Wycombe seems a man of great determination. Perhaps it would be best to simply ignore the man’s attentions.”  
    The man’s words made Ivy hesitate. Was it possible she was allowing her own sense of injustice to guide her attempts to chastise the viscount? She dismissed the possibility as quickly as it popped into her head. With a shake of her head, she smiled at Morris.
    “I think once you return this last arrangement of flowers, his lordship will end his pursuit.”
    “Very well, Miss Ivy.” A look of doubt on his face, Morris left the salon.  
    Determined to forget Lord Wycombe, Ivy glanced at the black shawl draped over the arm of her reading chair. She needed something to preoccupy her, and The Golden Lotus was exactly the thing to take her mind off of Anthony’s uncle. Curling her legs up beneath her, Ivy opened the book and inhaled a sharp breath of shock.  
    The erotic drawing made her eyes widen and her heart pounded violently in her chest. Despite being scandalized by the drawing, she couldn’t suppress her fascination with it. The man in the drawing was naked, his body hard, lean and muscular. Strong arms stretched out to caress the hair of the woman in the picture. In contrast to the man’s steely strength, the woman in the picture was soft and plump, her derriere pushing upward in the picture as she bent over the man. Intense pleasure tugged at the man’s features, as the woman’s mouth engulfed his phallus.  
    Was the act as enjoyable for the woman as it obviously was for the man? Would he find such an act pleasurable? She stared at the picture and realized it was Lord Wycombe’s face she was imagining she saw there. Appalled, she slammed the book closed. Dear Lord, what was she thinking?  
    Ivy leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed, as she tried to think of something else. But the illicit thought returned to tease and tempt her. Would such an act please the viscount? Horrified, she shook her head. She’d lost her mind. How could she possibly even have such a thought? And why him of all men?  
    It was the book. There was no other explanation for why she would even think such a thing—and especially when it came to Lord Wycombe. Frantic with the need to dispel the carnal image in her mind, she sprang to her feet and dropped the book into the chair.
    Pacing the floor, she tried to forget how her body had quivered when he’d leaned into her at the library. She’d tried to retreat, but there had been nowhere to run. Ivy gulped with trepidation and something undefinable as she remembered how close he’d been to her. Heat curled its way over her skin. He’d been close enough that if she’d turned her head even the slightest bit his mouth would have covered hers.  
    Almost as if he were in the room with her, she could smell the bergamot he wore. There was something wicked about him, and just thinking about him made her mouth go dry. Once more, the image of the viscount stretched out naked in a chair flooded her head, and she moaned softly. Dear lord, she was mad to have brought that book home. Madder still to be thinking of Lord Wycombe in such a carnal way. She would return the book first thing tomorrow. Anything to rid herself of thoughts so carnal in nature with a man she knew better to associate with.

 
    Chapter 5
    Simon gritted his teeth as he accepted the small nosegay from the dour-faced butler with an abrupt nod. His fingers curled around the stems of the flowers as he watched the servant climb the steps of Ivy’s townhouse and retreat behind the blue door.  
    Damnation, but the woman was determined to make him beg for her forgiveness. He stood on the sidewalk feeling like a lovesick suitor rejected once more. With a grimace, he looked down at the flowers and saw the white card tucked in the wilting blooms. A smile tugged at his lips. Ivy Beecham