Читать книгу Seducing a Stranger - Christine Merrill, Christine Merrill - Страница 7

Victoria smiled in triumph as a man limped into the room, for it was obvious that she had been right. He had watched. She could see it in his eyes. And it was plain that she had aroused him with her behavior.

His cheeks were flushed as though from too much wine. But it was not drunkenness. Desire, of course. She had expected that. But embarrassment? Watching and knowing that she knew. She had been told he was no stranger to houses of ill fame. But perhaps he was not usually a voyeur. He was younger than she had expected, little older than herself, but ten years younger than Charles. And though the sight of him locking the door should have scared her, his appearance did not match the dark villain she had expected. Tom Godfrey’s hair was brown, touched with gold from too much sun, and it fell in his eyes as he looked at her. He reached up and brushed it away.

“Do you fear interruption?” she asked, glancing at the locked door.

He dropped the key into his pocket. “I certainly do not wish it.” His voice was pleasant, almost defying her to enjoy the sound of it. He approached the bed, and she resisted the urge to close her legs. Instead, she leaned back against the pillows, stretching her arms over her head and clasping her hands together. She could feel her breasts draw tight, straining against the chemise as she moved.

He shed his clothing quickly, as though there were little time to waste. And judging by the state of him, perhaps there was not. She felt an inappropriate frission of desire at the sight of him. He was a soldier, body hardened and marked by battle. There was an angry red scar high on one leg, which explained the hitch in his gait as he walked.

But he seemed healthy enough. And aroused he was almost frighteningly large.

It had been a long time since she had been with a man, she reminded herself, trying not to stare. And while she had no reason to want this particular man, her body’s reaction to his was normal, and not the least bit traitorous to her husband’s memory. As long as she did not dwell on it.

He smiled at her, and climbed on to the bed, reaching for her. As he took her into his arms, she felt the tingling friction of his bare skin against hers, and dropped her arms to circle his neck. Heat rose in her at the contact, and she fought down her guilt. What was about to happen meant nothing. She must separate physical response from more tender emotions. She would lie back and close her eyes and it would be over in no time.

And then, his lips touched hers.

She shied away from his kiss, turning her head. The man might expect no more than a lack of struggle in the actual act, but there would be no way to hide what she felt for him if they kissed.