Free A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle by Catherine Gayle Page A

you must also be aware,
Miss Hyatt, that every eye in the room is trained upon the two of
us. Including those of your chaperone. Perhaps even your
father.”
    “ Yes,” she said, with a
slight tremor in her voice. Blast him for reminding her of all the
reasons she should run screaming from him. And blast her for not doing as she
ought.
    Lord Quinton’s eyes smiled at her
then, a smile only a true rogue could muster. “And yet you remain
with me. Dancing.” He twirled her about so fast she would have lost
her feet, but for his strong arm at her waist pulling her ever
closer. “Waltzing.”
    At this new distance she smelled his
cologne, much like she had imagined it in her story. “Yes,” she
whispered, no longer trusting her voice not to fail.
    He stood still and held her steady
before him. “Lovely,” Lord Quinton growled just before his lips
descended upon hers in a kiss. A kiss nothing like what she
imagined.
    This was nothing tender or chaste. It
was needy and possessive and hot.
    He pulled her closer until her body
was melded into his, her curves tucked neatly into his angles and
planes like they had been made just for that purpose. One hand
moved up into the chignon at the nape of her neck, fisting and
tugging and drawing her ever closer.
    His lips were hard and demanding. The
stubble along his jaw assaulted her tender skin in a way that left
her panting for more. He bit her lower lip and she cried out, but
it was muffled against his tongue as it moved inside her
mouth.
    Aurora tasted his brandy—smooth and
dark.
    Lord Quinton moved his tongue in and
out and around. When he suckled, her toes sang and the tips of her
fingers trembled and something both terrible and wonderful happened
between her thighs.
    She wanted more.
    She wanted to do the things to him he
was doing to her, to make him feel these wanton
feelings.
    She wanted it never to end.
    But then he pulled his head back, the
absence of his lips leaving hers aching for their
return.
    Lord Quinton stepped away from her.
Removed his hands from her. He bowed his head briefly. “Miss Hyatt.
I bid you good evening.”
    And he left.

Chapter Six
     
    2 April, 1811
     
    Oh, dear good Lord, I
only thought my
life had ended yesterday. Now I know it has. But oh, what a way to
die. I wonder, can one still kiss in heaven? And would a kiss in
heaven feel as fiendishly sinful as that kiss? If not, perhaps I
would prefer not to go to heaven when I die later today. Perhaps
somewhere else would be preferable.
     
    ~From the journal of Miss
Aurora Hyatt
     
    “ Up. You must get up now , Aurora.”
    From Aurora’s position fully buried
beneath her bedclothes, Rose’s voice sounded eerily like it
belonged to Rebecca. And since when did the maid think she could
use her first name, anyway?
    “ What’s the point in
getting up only to march to my funeral? Kindly inform Father he can
handle such matters in here. I’ll not assist him.” Truthfully,
she’d already done enough.
    What on earth had come over her last
night? She’d flirted outrageously with Lord Quinton from across the
ballroom, danced with him without being properly introduced (and a
waltz, at that!), ignored her dearest friend, and become totally
and irrevocably smitten with the scoundrel (for what else could he
be considered?). All right. Fine. The totally smitten part occurred
the moment she heard mention of his existence and then intensified
when she heard he had a pirate-like demeanor. But the irrevocable
part did only just occur last night. And to cap off the utterly
disastrous night, she had allowed the rogue to kiss her.
    In the ballroom.
    In front of half the ton .
    With her stupendous luck, Father had
returned to the ballroom just in time to see the kiss. He had been
too stunned by what he saw to confront Lord Quinton as the
blackguard made his escape.
    Instead, it seemed he intended to take
out his wrath upon Aurora.
    She , however, intended to remain precisely where she was until
the moment of