Free To Tempt an Earl by Kristin Vayden

he seemed quite… shocked
actually, when he discovered who I was."
    "Shocked by your beauty, miss." Molly spoke
confidently.
    Bethanny shook her head then bit her lip. How
she loved Molly; her fierce loyalty was a rarity and all the more
reason for Bethanny's friendship with her maid. That loyalty also
made Molly utterly trustworthy, but Bethanny dared not speak about
the kiss out loud. She wanted it to be a delicious secret, one that
was only shared by one other person. Graham.
    "I do believe he found me… pleasing to
behold. However, I think , no, I know he was unhappy
because… well… you see, while he didn't know he was speaking with
me earlier, I knew it was him. And I didn't say anything about who
I was, even though I knew he didn't recognize me," Bethanny
confessed.
    "Oh." Molly furrowed her brow and quirked her
lips. "Then we'll just have to change his heart a bit, won't we?"
She grinned mischievously. "Your cap's still set on the gentleman,
is it not?"
    "Oh yes," Bethanny spoke reverently.
    "You're a smart one, miss. He might have
gotten his manly pride prickled a bit when he realized you were
quicker than he, but I suspect that he'll come around, given the
proper encouragement." Molly shrugged and went back to the
dresses.
    "Encouragement?"
    "Well, yes, miss. With your beautiful
coffee-colored hair and those bottomless brown eyes, I doubt he's
missed what a beauty you are. Add to that your kind heart and smart
wit, he'll not be able to resist. Besides," Molly smirked a bit
before schooling her features into a polite smile, "he's not going
to forget you, that's for sure. And that, miss, is half the battle
already won."
     

     
    "Why in the bloody hell do I have to call on
her?" Graham was not in the mood to argue with his sister. In fact,
he wasn't in the mood for anything other than swiping the French
brandy from his study and drinking till sleep found him.
    Because he hadn't slept a wink last
night.
    Not even a bloody minute.
    Because each time he'd closed his eyes, she
was there. Her deep brown gaze seared through him, igniting a
passion he really wished would remain inexperienced. So, he'd open
his eyes and stare at his ceiling, or the wall, or the fire —
anything that would get his mind off her. Yet everywhere he looked,
he'd grown bored with whatever it was he been gazing at — though it
wasn't shocking. How interesting was a wall, really? He'd relived
their kiss, which in turn, had reminded him of the soft press of
her body against his, the warmth of her lips caressing his own, and
the flavor .
    Heaven help him, he couldn't forget the
flavor.
    It was honey and champagne.
    It was desire and surrender.
    It was unlike anything he had ever sampled
before, and like an addict he was already craving more.
    But that was exactly why calling on Miss
Bethanny Lamont was a very bad idea.
    "Bloody hell."
    "You've already said that… much as I wish you
wouldn't. What is it that has you in such a foul mood this
morning?" his sister commented sternly, her gaze scrutinizing him
in a way that made his feet itch with guilt.
    That was the rub. He did feel guilty.
Guilty, because he hadn't recognized her. Guilty, because even
after he had realized just who she was, it hadn't changed the fact
that he'd wanted her.
    Badly. And still did.
    And finally, he felt guilty because he'd been
asked by his best friend to look out for her. When, in actuality,
all he'd wanted to do was compromise her so that she'd be his.
Which, in turn, would betray his best friend. And possibly cause a
duel, and he'd be the one who deserved the bullet.
    "Edward?" his menace of a sister asked
impatiently.
    "I'm tired."
    "You're not that old."
    "I feel that old," Graham replied,
sitting and resting his head against the back of the chair.
    "All the more reason for you to marry this
season then. Am I correct? I never thought I'd see the day when my
baby brother was too tired to chase a skirt."
    "See here!" Graham's eyes blinked open
rapidly, and he