A Scoundrel By Moonlight. Anna Campbell

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      She backed away and bumped hard into the door. “I must go.”

      His hands tightened. “You freely entered the lion’s den, Miss Trim.”

      “Stop calling me Miss Trim,” she said crossly, bracing her hands against his powerful chest. She told herself to push him away, but her disobedient fingers curved into hard muscle. He was so wonderfully warm. Beneath her right palm, his heart beat like a conqueror’s drum.

      The kiss had been intimate. Feeling the life pounding through him felt more so. What a mistake she’d made coming here. Even if she left immediately, she and the marquess would never be strangers again.

      “Would you rather I called you Eleanor?” he asked silkily.

      Her eyes widened. “Only my father called me Eleanor. Everyone calls me Nell.”

      “I rather like the idea of kissing Eleanor.”

      “I rather like the idea of going back to my room.” She squeaked in horror. That sounded like a proposition. “Alone.”

      “So no curiosity?”

      She saw by his expression that the shake of her head lacked conviction. “I’m sorry I invaded your apartments.”

      “I’m not.”

      Shocked, she stared at him. “You’re not?”

      “I have a lovely woman in my arms and no particular plans for the rest of the evening.”

      Her stomach lurched in dismay. Dear Lord, at last she saw the seducer. And as he’d so rightly said, she’d put herself squarely in his sights. She shoved his chest. It was like trying to move a monolith. “No.”

      “No?”

      “Droit de seigneur went out of fashion with the farthingale.”

      “So you don’t want to share my bed?”

      “No.” Although her blood beat hard and hot at the thought of having that big beautiful body as her plaything for the night.

      “Yet here you are.” The edge in his tone made her shiver.

      “I … told you why.”

      “Yes, you’re suffering a bad case of unrequited love.”

      She pushed at his chest again. “Not love. Just infatuation.”

      “Prove it.”

      Her wriggling stopped and she regarded him aghast. “I’m not a doxy.” Bitterness seeped into her voice. “I don’t even know how to kiss, as you so ungallantly pointed out.”

      His laugh this time held the characteristic grim note. Briefly when he’d kissed her, he’d looked like a gentler, younger, kinder man. Now the purpose in his expression made her quake with nerves. And unwilling excitement. She’d never stood so long in a man’s embrace. Next to Leath, she felt small and feminine. Powerless too, which should terrify her. After all, he threatened ruin, and there was nobody to save her.

      “You’ll keep your chastity, although God knows you tempt fate.”

      “I thought you were in the library,” she said stubbornly.

      “No excuse.”

      “So let me go.”

      His smile wasn’t reassuring. “Not until you’ve learned how to kiss a man.”

      She braced against him. “I think I’m better off not knowing.”

      “I’m appalled that a woman so lovely is untouched.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Compliments won’t make me stay.”

      “Perhaps not. But this might.”

      He captured her lips in a quick, commanding kiss. Odd how much he could convey without words.

      “You … you flatter yourself, my lord.”

      “Do I? You’re still here.”

      She gulped in air. She kept forgetting to breathe. Then when she did, Leath’s musky essence intoxicated her, making coherent thought impossible.

      Another inhalation. Only to realize that he no longer held her. His beautiful hands hung loose and open at his sides, although his rough breathing indicated disquiet.

      She raised her hands from his chest, loathing how his warmth lingered on her palms, and reached behind her for the doorknob. “You’ll stop me if I try to leave.”

      Nell had a horrible feeling that she sounded like she wanted him to keep her here.

      “Try it and see.”

      Despite all the evil she knew of him, she had the strongest feeling that she could trust him with her life. Was she right? Or was she another stupid girl caught in a rake’s net?

      “Just a kiss?” she whispered, hardly believing that she wasn’t already halfway back to her room. She wondered if he had any idea what potent effect his raw masculinity had on her frail willpower. “Can I trust you?”

      The edge returned to his voice, although he didn’t move. “You’re the one who broke into my bedroom.”

      Completely unjustified guilt surged. He was a bad man and she’d been doing the work of the righteous. But she couldn’t deny that she’d felt shabby breaching his inner sanctum. “One kiss and then I’ll go.”

      “As you wish.”

      “You agree?” she asked in shock.

      “It’s time to move from negotiation to action, my dear Eleanor.” To prove he meant it, he drew her into his arms.

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