Free Three Schemes and a Scandal by Maya Rodale

He wanted to touch, to taste. He wanted to muss up her hair again, not because her hairpins were needed to pick a lock, but because he ran his fingers through them as he kissed her thoroughly.
    Lady Layton and Beaverbrook, by the sounds of it, were thoroughly engaged in a second bout of lovemaking. He wanted to block out the noise. He wanted to be truly alone with Charlotte. And he wanted to get out of this damned alcove before his self-restraint cracked.
    “Thank you for trying to mend the situation with my father and me,” he said. It was important that he said it.
    “Oh, it was no trouble,” she replied.
    “You invented an architectural motif and a book,” James said. Not one to do things by halves. If she were like that in bed …
    “A young lady must keep herself entertained,” she replied and he thought of her keeping herself entertained … in bed …
    “Many young ladies find embroidery and watercolors an amenable pastime,” he said after an embarrassing pause in which he did not think of embroidery and watercolors at all.
    “We only allow gentlemen to think that,” she said, grinning wickedly. “How long do you think they will carry on?”
    “Do you have someplace to be?”
    “Oh, I should be out in the ballroom making myself available to suitors. Or at the very least, my presence should assure Sophie that I am not off getting into trouble.”
    “Which is precisely what you are doing. Instead of getting yourself courted, you are getting yourself ruined. Here. With me.”
    A horrid thought crossed his mind: In the eyes of the world, should they be caught, they were already ruined and destined to marry. Might as well have fun and thoroughly enjoy it. Starting with a deep first kiss and ending with their own sighs, moans and invocations of the Lord.
    “Technically, I’m not ruined. We have merely conversed,” Charlotte pointed out. “Also, I could claim the chaperonage of Lady Sighs Ands Moans out there.”
    “She’s hardly providing adequate chaperonage. Anyone would agree.”
    “Ruination always seemed like it would be more fun than this. Stuck in a window alcove. Chattering away …” Did she mean that sly, coy glance? Did she bite her lip to deliberately tease him or just because? He knew her, but he didn’t know her romantically. Or nakedly.
    “Charlotte, you are a devil,” he said slowly.
    “I know,” she said and she gave him that naughty smile again.
    “I’m trying to be honorable. And protect you from yourself,” he said through gritted teeth. Her response nearly undid him.
    “What if I don’t want honorable intentions or to be protected?”
    “Are you sure about that?” James asked in a low murmur.
    He placed a hand on either side of her, bracing himself against the wall and boxing her in. Her breath became shallow and he was glad. She did not reply.
    Charlotte, speechless. Impressive. He liked her like this.
    “Because I’ve had the devil of a time not ravishing you in a window alcove. With other people in the room.”
    As if on cue, Beaverbrook cut in.
    “Oh, yes! I could make love to you . . . All! Night! Long!”
    “It sounds like we have time for it,” James murmured in her ear, pausing to kiss the soft hollow where her neck curved to her shoulder. He breathed her in, the inexplicable scent of her, which hit him like a drug. There was no stopping now. “Unless you want to talk.”
    Dear God, please do not make her want to talk. James hoped this request was not lost among the many calls to God occurring in the Capulet library this evening.
    “No, no I don’t want to talk,” she whispered.
    “Me neither,” he said and it was the last thing he said for a while.
    W hen James gently pressed his lips on her neck, Charlotte shivered as her every nerve was awakened excitedly by this novel sensation. When his lips pressed against hers, her awareness of everything else in the world ceased. She didn’t hear Lady Layton or Beaverbrook, or the tick tock of the clock