Free Love With a Scandalous Lord by Lorraine Heath

London. She certainly couldn’t practice with Colton.
    “I don’t think I’m rare at all.”
    “Then you are unfamiliar with what is common.” He eased up until her knees rested against his thighs. “Do Texas ladies think nothing of being alone with a man at midnight?” he asked in a voice so provocatively low that it fairly purred with unspoken promises.
    “I wonder about it all the time,” she admitted candidly.
    For the first time since her arrival, she saw a true smile cross his face, a smile that washed away the cynicism that seemed such a part of him. She’d thought him handsome when she first set eyes on him. But when wearing a smile, he was devastatingly gorgeous.
    “And what do you wonder?” he asked softly.
    “I wonder if a man will find me lacking.”
    “Believe me, Miss Westland, no gentleman would find you lacking.”
    “I wonder if his kiss will steal my breath away.”
    “Fascinating.” The conversation certainly hadn’t gone in the direction that Rhys had expected it to, and he realized too late that having Lydia alone in the moonlight was not a wise course of action. Especially when she’d obviously just risen from bed. He was sorely tempted to carry her to her bed and join her there.
    “Are all Texas ladies as candid as you are about revealing their thoughts?” he asked.
    “Most are. I suppose I shouldn’t be. Especially if I want to play the games over here.”
    “What do you know of our games?”
    “Only what I’ve gleaned from books and Lauren’s letters. It’s not quite the same as experiencing it.”
    He wasn’t certain when his hands had begun traveling past her soles to her ankles and a little higher. He remembered Grayson warning him that Lydia was notaccustomed to the games played here. The women he’d entertained in recent years had continually dared him to break the rules with them. He had to take into consideration that simply bending the rules with this one could very well cause him to end up shattering her heart.
    A risk he was unwilling to take.
    “Tell me of your life in Texas,” he demanded, wanting the distraction, wishing he’d never begun to rub her feet, but unwilling to separate himself from her.
    She shrugged slightly. “Not much to tell. Papa pretty much explained everything during dinner. We work the fields, clean the house, and cook the meals. Boring.”
    “The gown you wore this evening was hardly boring.”
    Her eyes widened slightly, and he could sense she was pleased by his comment.
    “You must have occasion to wear it,” he murmured. “And I should think the occasion would be quite exciting indeed.”
    She smiled fully. He was grateful to both the lanterns and the moonlight for allowing him to see her so clearly.
    “It was a gift for my eighteenth birthday.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Two years.”
    “Is that so?” He knew her age for certain now. Twenty. Much too young for his cynical years.
    He gave his gaze the freedom to travel the length of her. How he was tempted to draw her onto his lap and warm every inch of her.
    “I find your world fascinating,” she said in a sultry voice that carried a hint of twang.
    She spoke as though she was in no hurry to get the words out. He found himself savoring every syllable,every inflection. Her wholesome speech contained an honesty that lured him in.
    “I find you fascinating, Miss Westland.”
    He heard her breath catch. Her eyes were limpid pools with the ability to take a man under and make him not care that he might never again surface.
    “We’re practically related. You could call me Lydia.”
    “We’re not related at all,” he said, while not revealing the honest truth: that he was absolutely grateful they weren’t.
    “You play with fire, when you approach a man wearing nothing but your nightclothes,” he informed her.
    Lydia felt as though she weren’t only playing with fire, but completely surrounded by it. When had the night grown so incredibly warm? When had heat