Free A Secret Passion by Sophia Nash

strides, he was in front of her. He grasped her shoulders in a firm if not painful grip. Jane, in her embarrassment, felt rooted to the spot and was unable to think of anything to say.
    And then he said it again—”Come with me,” in a commanding, harsh whisper. He led her farther down the hall into a sitting room and adjoining chamber, then closed the door. She noticed the beautiful blue toile curtains and tapestries lining the windows and walls of the spacious room. Beyond a short corridor, she could see a massive carved wooden bed with the same toile curtains. With shock, she realized she was in an inappropriate position. A position she had avoided her entire life.
    The earl fingered the soft silk of her sleeves. His large, warm hands slowly slid down her arms. Jane felt the callused palms and inched away. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
    She tilted up her chin and lied. “No. Should I be?”
    “I would reconsider your answer,” he whispered. His forefinger traced a line from her lips to her breast. Her nipple hardened as she gasped in surprise. She knew she was blushing.
    “What on earth do you think you are doing, my lord?”
    “Trying to get my face slapped, Madam.”
    “Well, I should think…” she started.
    “No, don’t think,” he interrupted. The earl’s shadow fell across her face as his warm breath reached her cheek, giving her ample time to draw back. When she did not, his full lips met hers as he drew her into the circle of his arms. Her mind raced with shock as the reality of the scene unfolded. She must take hold of herself. But she could not. The effort to say no was too far away. She felt drugged by the raw, male, familiar smell of him. In embarrassment, she felt his tongue curl against her own and tasted brandy. Harry had never kissed her like that. His kisses had always been chaste and brief. This was intoxicating and knee-weakening. His hands were loosening her gown while he looked into her eyes. She felt paralyzed by the excess of emotions coursing through her.
    “Are you more inclined now, Jane?” he asked, whispering into her ear as he placed one of her hands on his shoulder. The intimacy of hearing her given name on his lips was almost more provocative than what he asked.
    She was too embarrassed to answer. All she knew, for some unfathomable reason, was that she would not back down now.
    He lowered the edges of her dress and shift and sucked in his breath. He seemed almost dazed, Jane saw, when he leaned down to taste the tip of her breast. His hand rose to trace the contours of the other. The twin sensations of overwhelming shyness and an unfurling desire made her stand perfectly still. He suckled her and gently touched the sensitive tips with the palm of his hand. Jane felt a rush of heat and a painful longing run through the core of her body as his rough face etched itself on her breasts. She stopped breathing as she combed her fingers through his thick black silky hair and arched her back.
    Rolfe paused and looked up at her with half-closed eyes. “You must tell me to stop if you so desire.” She stared back at him.
    “I insist, my lord…” she whispered.
    “You must say it with more force, Mrs. Lovering,” he said dryly.
    “Are you intoxicated, my lord?” she retorted with as much dignity as she could muster, considering her state of undress.
    He smiled and picked her up like a child then made his way through the passage to lay her on the bed in the darkened room. He pushed off his coat and undid his white neckcloth. As he pulled the linen shirt over his head, she noticed the large bulge in his buff-colored breeches. She felt goose bumps on her arms as fear waged war with desire.
    He leaned over the bed and peeled back the layer upon layer of dress clothes, petticoats, underclothes, and her shift until she lay naked upon the bedcovers. She watched his gray eyes dilate with passion as he drew the pins from her hair. Waves of her hair fell past her shoulders onto the