Dearest Love Lady,

I can hardly believe that I am writing you a letter. I suppose I could have spoken to a trusted friend instead, but friends tend to be awfully biased. Thus, I am writing to you in the hopes that you have some advice for the dilemma I am currently facing.

I am what you would call a free spirit. I believe that life is meant to be enjoyed and lived, not suffered through in an unimaginative existence.

Fortune favors the bold, but I fear that, in my case, fortune has played a cruel trick. The gentleman who may have a chance to steal my heart is everything but bold. He is impossibly proper, reserved, and shy.

It does not seem as though we would be a good match at all, and yet I find myself inexplicably drawn to him. Are we doomed from the start?

Sincerely,

Wildflower

Dear Wildflower,

I often find that the differences in our personalities make for the most exciting relationships. It is, however, of vital importance that you do not allow these differences to cause sacrifice.

The best advice I can give is this: make sure that you always meet each other halfway—in doing so, you shall ensure that the love you have for each other will endure. When love is true, it works out in the end, but remember that there is an enormous difference between sacrifice and compromise. Do not lose your spark because of a man.

All my best,

Love Lady

Chapter One

Stephen Huntington hated the change of season, especially the start of spring. The constant sneezing and sniffing as blossoms opened around him was incredibly bothersome. Then again, perhaps it was more than the change of season he hated. If he were honest with himself—and he counted himself an honest man, indeed—he hated all change.

A sudden whistle from above yanked him out of his mundane thoughts, and he stared in awe at a lady—no, a woman who was certainly not fit to be called a lady—with messy red hair, leaning out of a window.

“What on earth?”

Stephen barely had time to formulate a proper thought before the girl dangled a bag out of the window.

“Catch this!”

The bag landed in Stephen’s hands. And before he had time to recover, the girl jumped from the window too, and he took a large stride forward to catch her in his arms.

“What in the heavens?”

Her face was close to his—quite improper. Yet, he could not help but admire the tiny freckles on her nose or the mischievous glint in her eyes. She was indeed quite beautiful.

“Wait a second…”

He’d seen those piercing green eyes before, of that he was certain, yet a name evaded him. “You’re Emma’s friend, aren’t you? Cassidy?” He shook his head quickly, searching his mind for the name. “Chastity?”

The green eyes twinkled with mischief, and the girl pressed her hands on his shoulders, letting herself out of his grip easily.

“Charity. Thank you for catching me, and…” She reached quickly to grab the bag out of his hands. “I’ll just take this.”

“Wait a second!” Stephen grabbed onto the dainty wrist quickly, his eyes narrowing. A lot could be said about the Huntington family, but he would in no way be accessory to theft.

“Did you steal this?”

“Well…” Charity gave a rather uncomfortable laugh and shrugged. “‘Steal’ is such a technical term, you know.”

Stephen looked at her, aghast. How could this woman possibly be Emma’s best friend? His brother’s wife was demure and classy, a proper lady. How could she be friends with a common thief? Albeit she was a stunningly beautiful one with fair skin and emerald eyes.

Charity’s upbeat voice interrupted his wandering thoughts. “It’s my father’s house, so technically I wasn’t stealing… not really.”

Stephen leered, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was inside the bag. Charity, on the other hand, was swift, and she promptly hid it behind her back. Whatever was inside the bag clanked together—silver, he assumed.

“So, if it’s your father’s house, why don’t you just ask for what it is you want? And why jump through the window, rather than use the front door?”

Charity sighed and slowed her voice as though she had to explain a difficult concept to a child.

“My dear stepbrother was supposed to open the door for me and tell my father I was here, but he is probably out with one of his various companions. As for asking…”

She hesitated, and Stephen lifted a brow, curious as to her explanation. What explanation could she possibly have that made any sense at all?

“Well, if I must be honest… I enjoy the thrill. Have you never wanted to do something a little improper, something… out of the ordinary?”

Stephen could only look at her blankly. Doing something out of the ordinary was unheard of in the circles he moved in. She was looking at him defiantly, and his heart skipped a beat.

“So… what are you going to do with your treasure?”

As improper as it was, Stephen could not help but play along. The girl fascinated him. She was like a breath of fresh air, everything but proper and conventionally ladylike. Stephen wondered how Charity’s father managed to raise her to be so fiercely wild.

“Well…” Charity gestured around daintily. “I’d hand it out to the poor, of course…”

“Ah…” Stephen grinned. “Charity indeed, an apt name.”

Charity grinned at this, and Stephen took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable. She was rather radiant when she smiled, and he could feel his heart starting to gallop.

“So… what else do you do for a thrill?”

She took a step forward at this, her lips almost brushing against his ear.

“Nothing the future Marquess of Hertford would concern himself with. Perhaps I am a tad too wild for you, sir.”

Stephen swallowed. She had always been impossible not to notice, of course, but now even more so. Perhaps it was the close proximity they suddenly shared, but all he could think of was her floral scent oozing off her—deliciously intoxicating.

“I implore you, tell me what else it is you have planned.”

“Well…” Charity thought for a minute, then a wide grin crossed her face. “Perhaps, one day you will know. However, I’m afraid today will not be said day.”

She skipped off rather merrily, leaving Stephen confused and alone.

“Wait!” He could hardly believe that he was calling out after her. It was very unbecoming of a man in his position to raise his voice at all, and yet… something about the fiery redhead made it seem impossible to let her go.

“When will I see you again?”

Charity paused at this, her subtly provocative eyes rendering him uncomfortable.

“If you’re meant to see me again… you will.”

***

The promise of seeing Stephen again remained in Charity’s mind for days, leaving her restless and far more irritable than usual. Of course, she remembered him from Martin and Emma’s wedding and even the house party where they all met for the first time. He’d made an impressive figure back then: tall, dark, and stoic.

Yet, when he caught her so easily as she jumped from a window a few days earlier, she saw another side of him. There was something almost playful in his eyes, something she would love to explore. Had her list not already been quite extensive, she might have added him to it.

The sun was setting, and she gasped—she did not have much time to get ready for her evening plans. A thick fur coat covered the far too revealing dress she was wearing, and a black wig concealed her signature red locks. She was not foolish; she knew this was a rather dangerous game. But she couldn’t stop herself. She had to…

Charity stopped herself before the thoughts could get too intrusive. Tonight was about fun, about living, not… reality.

Thankfully, the house was empty. She’d successfully lied about a stomach bug to avoid a family gathering with Lord and Lady Blandford. If only life could be as simple as fooling her family. It was not, however, and dark thoughts plagued her as she made her way to the seedier part of London, the part women like her ought to avoid. There, she quickly hid the fur coat to reveal a shockingly tight scarlet dress. It took but a second for the men in the club to notice her, and before long, she was surrounded by them.

Though this was her first time pretending to be a worldly seductress, Charity could not help but be flattered by the attention bestowed upon her. Only when a rather old, bawdy man grabbed ahold of her wrist did she become concerned. His grip was tight and she could smell the liquor on his breath, proving how difficult it would be for her to escape such a predicament. She was about to call out when—

“Excuse me!” The voice came out of nowhere, and Charity spun round, her eyes wide when she recognized him. “I believe the lady is meant to be my escort for the evening.”

The older gentleman let go of her with a grunt, and Charity slowly lifted her eyes to look at her savior. Lo and behold, Stephen Huntington wearing a self-satisfied smirk.

“That’s twice I have saved you in two weeks, my lady. Would you mind accompanying me to a more… secluded place?”

There was nothing Charity could do but nod. Whether she liked it or not, the devilishly handsome man suddenly had a strange effect on her.

She followed him into the private room hesitantly and paused. It was not the sort of place a duke’s daughter such as her would ever think to visit. Stephen seemed awfully uncomfortable there as well, and Charity made the instant decision to use his discomfort to her advantage.

“So, sir…” She batted her lashes flirtatiously. “I didn’t expect you to be the type to visit a place like this.”

Stephen didn’t respond; he merely patted on the couch next to him, gesturing for her to join him.

“I’m afraid your only choices are wine or ale… and I doubt you’d enjoy the ale.”

Charity locked eyes with him before moving to sit on the couch next to him. “I’ll have the ale.”

It tasted bitter, unlike the sweet, honeyed wine she was used to, but she refused to show it and give him the upper hand. So there was really only one viable option—moving quickly, she straddled Stephen and pressed her lips against his ear.

“So… what is it you meant to do with me in a private room, sir?”

His hands automatically moved to her hips, clenching slightly before releasing. His voice had a hoarse quality to it, and Charity basked in the realization that she was responsible for it.

“I… you seem to be the expert here, my lady. What is it you suggest?”

He had redirected the focus on her and she was unsure how to proceed. She was attracted to him, that much was certain. To be honest, she hadn’t thought of anything or anyone else in the previous few days. She lowered her voice, almost purring into his ear.

“What is it that gentlemen want?”

“Nothing a lady like you should have any knowledge of.”

Stephen licked his lips nervously, and she could hardly blame him. Her bosom was practically in his face; there was no way he could miss the milky white skin of her pert breasts.

But Charity was not done with him. She pressed against him closer, allowing him to inhale her scent—a new, flowery eau de cologne she had just received from Paris.

“Oh, live a little. Have some fun. And tell me what it is you desire.”

“I suppose…” Stephen tore his eyes away from her curves to search her eyes. “Redheads with a certain zest for life is a start.”

***

She leaned closer, her lips almost touching his. Stephen only needed to lean in half an inch, and their lips would meet. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. No, he really wanted nothing more than to yank off the too-revealing dress that no duke’s daughter should own and make her his right there on the couch.

“So, my wig did nothing to conceal my identity, did it?” Charity pretended to be disappointed as she took it off. Her red locks cascaded down her back, and Stephen suddenly decided red was his new favorite color.

“I’m afraid not, my lady.” He tried to focus, but his eyes slipped to her lips once more. “I knew it was you the moment I stepped into the club.”

They were still merely an inch apart, her weight pressing softly against his body, making him awfully aware of their proximity. If he just leaned in a little closer…

“So, tell me…” He eventually made the safe, albeit boring choice, of talking instead of kissing, his hands still resting casually on her hips. He had meant to ask why she was so intent on attracting danger. To be fair, she could attract anything and anyone she wanted, not that he would admit that part—not in words, at least.

Charity did not allow him to take the lead though. Pressing her hands on his chest, she sat up a little and cornered him with a question of her own first, his heart racing at her slightest movement. “Do you visit clubs like this often, good sir?”

Stephen smirked. It seemed to be her first visit here. The poor girl had no idea that most men frequented the club for a drink and a game of checkers. The few women that visited the establishment were well-known for their services indeed, but few gentlemen made use of said services. At least, he didn’t. Stephen caught a loose curl and placed it behind her ear, looking at the wig she had thrown on the floor. His hand remained behind her neck, drawing small circles there.

“The better question, my lady,” Stephen whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer, “is what would you, a duke’s daughter, be doing in a place like this?”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she leapt up. There was nothing they could say to alleviate the gravity of his question—she was a duke’s daughter, and her father would go mad if he found out she was here.

“I suggest you be more careful, my lady.” Stephen continued, staring at her blushing, his mind racing with words or images that would bring this pink upon her cheeks again. “After all, you can’t be sure I will always come to your rescue.”

At that, she shot him a challenging look. “I do not believe anyone asked you to, good sir.”

Ah, the boldness has returned.

Charity collected her wig off the floor with a knowing smirk and ran off without another word, leaving a confused and intrigued Stephen behind. He called after her, but she never turned back. Only minutes after she had disappeared did he notice the piece of parchment on the floor lying next to the couch. Picking it up, he could smell the flowers of her perfume. He unfolded it and started reading. It seemed to be a list of some sort. Stephen looked at it with a small frown.

“Twenty-four things to do before you turn twenty-four.” Only two items on the list were crossed off: item one, do something that feels illegal, and item two, find out what gentlemen really want.

Stephen sighed and poured the rest of Charity’s untouched ale down his throat as he sat down. According to his father, all gentlemen wanted a good wife and a happy family. As for him… well, despite the stoicism of his appearance, he wanted adventure. He desired a life worth remembering, and he sought to do something meaningful rather than live a mundane life of duty and passionless endeavors. Not that it was in the cards, at least not for him.

He glanced at the list again. It was rather bizarre for a lady of her stature to even be creating lists like this—she, much like him, was expected to lead a life of marriage and children, nothing more, nothing less. A mundane life, pre-planned, totally expected and calculated.

But perhaps, as it turns out, some ladies and gentlemen were different than the majority of them. Perhaps for some, adventure took precedence over duty. And perhaps he wanted to explore this option along with a fiery redhead.

***

It was one of those days. The corset strings would not sit right, breakfast was a bowl of bitter fruit, and, most importantly, she had lost her list. She had lost her list. No!This is a catastrophe, a total, utter disaster of epic proportions! Where is it? She opened drawers, she searched the pockets of her dress, under her bed, she even retraced her steps from the night before. What am I to do? If this list falls into the wrong hands, I am finished! Exasperated, she run her hand through her hair when the loud gong from the clock in the sitting room reminded her of a long-overdue appointment with Emma.

Oh blast it, there is no time to look for it now. Now she’d have a cup of tea with Emma and perhaps make some indirect, nonchalant inquiries about her mysterious brother-in-law. Stephen. The mere thought of him flooded her cheeks with heat, the sheer remembrance of how it felt to be held by him was intoxicating. What was it about him that set her entire body aflame?

“Oh, Charity, darling…” The perfectly sweet voice could only belong to one person: Priscilla. “Would you like a spot of tea, love?”

Of course, even the way Priscilla presented the tea was perfectly proper, from the silver carrying tray to the snowy tea set—even the small yellow flower floating in the mug.

Charity barely glanced at her stepmother—she did not have the time or patience for tea. “I’d love to, but unfortunately I am late for an appointment with Emma.”

The tray landed on her vanity chest with a soft clang.

“I’m sure you could spare five minutes to enjoy the tea and biscuits I brought you out of the goodness of my heart.”

Charity hesitated. In truth, Priscilla was a good stepmother, and the two had always been able to share secrets. Today, however, her need to delve into the mystery that is Stephen Huntington was far more pressing than tea and biscuits.

Charity pressed a quick kiss against Priscilla’s greying hair. “I will make it up to you, I promise. But I can’t be late for this appointment.”

Priscilla seemed to understand, though her nod was a little sad and forlorn. Charity did not waste too much time reading it; she was far too curious. However, now that Priscilla had left, her concern for her list had returned.

She was certain she’d forgotten it in her stockings. How could it have vanished? If Priscilla saw the items on the list, let alone Father, she would be absolutely hysterical. The only thing she could hope for was that the list would turn up without anyone discovering it, or at the very least without anyone linking it to her.

Chapter Two

The list plagued Stephen all the way home. It was not what you’d expect from any nobleman, much less a noblewoman.

Swim in a lake in the nude. Let a beau touch me in public.

Thoughts of swimming with her in the nude or touching her in public coursed through his mind: what it would feel like to see her naked under the moon, what she would sound like if he reached his hand to touch her. All such images were violently interrupted the second he entered his estate. He could hear voices from his father’s study which meant they had a guest. Sighing, he opened the door and joined them. Next to his father stood a tall gentleman with a thin mustache. Marquess Huntington looked at his eldest son with pride.

“Stephen! I’d like you to meet the Duke of—”

The stranger interrupted Stephen’s father with a small smile. “Please, call me William. Titles are so formal, and we are about to be family, aren’t we?”

Stephen ignored the offered hand quite rudely and looked at his father, his eyes narrowed. “Family?”

“Now, Stephen…” Marquess Huntington sounded placating. He knew his son’s stubborn nature far too well, despite him successfully hiding it from the rest of the world. “The Duke here has agreed to allow you to marry his only daughter. As you know, your brother married the daughter of a duke, and I cannot have my eldest marry anyone of a lower rank.”

“Do I have a choice?” Stephen’s voice was clipped, almost angry. Perhaps he would have been more open to this arrangement if he hadn’t run into a certain redhead earlier in the day. As it was, he was suddenly most dissatisfied with his duties.

“You will meet your bride tomorrow. That is all.”

The Marquess waved Stephen away without saying anything else. Stephen remained silent. He greeted the Duke with a firm handshake and walked quietly to his chamber.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself, he took the now crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and looked at it. He shook his head.

As if she had left his mind even for a minute.

Charity.

Gods, she was pure perfection. He could still feel the press of her soft bosom against his chest, see the milky white skin and those blazing emerald eyes.

He wondered what would have happened had he decided to kiss her. What would her lips taste like? He imagined they’d be sweet like honeysuckle or sugar.

Stephen closed his eyes as he lay back on his bed, thoughts of Charity taking over his mind. Her lips would open under his, hesitantly at first, but then she’d kiss him with fervor. She’d wrap her dainty hands around his neck and he would explore her petite form with his own hands, from the curve of her hips, up to her soft breasts.

He’d be a gentleman, of course, and only lightly let his hands explore the material of her corset, perhaps accidentally graze the soft skin.

Charity, on the other hand, would behave like no lady. He’s seen the wildness in her, and he would see it again. She’d press that deliciously seductive body against him, make him grow hard for her. She’d kiss his neck, nibble at his earlobe. He’d take it an inch further, taste the soft skin of her neck, and…

No. He was a gentleman, and no gentleman could allow his thoughts to travel in this direction. It did not matter how easy the lady made it to fantasize about her. He would not go there, especially now that he was apparently betrothed.

Stephen would never admit this to anyone, but he despised the idea of an arranged marriage. Stoic and humorless as people saw him, he was a romantic—in the privacy of his own heart, of course. He believed in love. He believed in passion and desire, not in a cold transaction. He admired his younger brother for going after his wife, and he even felt a bit jealous that Martin had been brave enough to follow his heart. However, as the firstborn, he had a duty. And his duty certainly did not include feisty redheads. He had to make a proper marriage and have an heir. Oh, how he often wished that Martin had been firstborn. Then, he would be able to enjoy that bloody kiss with Charity—or more.

Goodness, if he did not end his intrusive thoughts about her instantaneously, he would be unable to keep it together the next time he saw her. And he’d definitely see her because they moved in the same circles. If he allowed his thoughts to wander any further, his blush would reveal himself the next time he looked Charity in the eyes.

He glanced at his pocket watch. He had almost forgotten about a dinner invitation his brother had extended to him—he’d have to hurry if he wanted to make it on time.

***

The flaming red hair was the first thing he saw when he entered his brother’s estate, and his heart dropped to his stomach where a thousand butterflies exploded. It was an odd feeling, an annoying one at that—one that he disliked immensely.

All the blood drained from Charity’s face when she too saw him, making the butterflies subside and giving him the upper hand. She was shocked.

“Ah, Lady Charity.” Stephen hoped above all hope that the tremor in his voice was not audible. “I had no idea that you’d be here too.”

Charity stood, and Stephen noticed that her hands were shaking. She held one out to him, and he allowed his lips to brush over the silken skin—the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach returning with a fire of a thousand suns.

Charity looked at him with a dainty smile. She knew the touch had affected him, and he had to turn the tables to get the upper hand back.

“I must say, my lady, I believe I have something that belongs to you, something you… misplaced… at our last meeting.”

It worked. She was ghostly pale again.

***

The list. He had the list; it could not be anything else. Charity stared at him, searching her mind desperately for the right words. “You have my list.”

The words escaped her mouth without permission, and Stephen smirked before standing up and walking away. Charity sat frozen for a minute before following him outside.

He stood on the terrace, proud and proper.

“Do you have it?” Charity would not allow herself to notice how handsome he looked against the green landscape.

“Perhaps.” Stephen seemed quite proud of himself while Charity’s eyes narrowed.

“You must give it back, my lord. It’s terribly improper to keep a lady’s property.”

“Indeed…” Stephen was having far more fun than her, that much was evident. However, it was not much of a surprise. He was not the one whose life could be ruined by the list.

“Give it back… please.” She said the last word through gritted teeth. It pained her to plead, and Stephen could no doubt notice it. He removed the crumpled paper from his pocket and glanced at her.

“‘Try something that feels illegal. Find out what gentlemen really want.’ Is that what you are looking for, my lady?” He gave her a look that set her body on fire.

Charity let out a harsh sigh to cover her reaction. “Yes. And having written the list, I assure you that I am quite familiar with the contents thereof. Would you please, my lord, return it to me? Now?”

Stephen shook his head, and the piece of paper disappeared into his pocket once more.

“I would, had some fiery redhead not dared me to live a little and have more fun.”

Charity glared at him. “I did, yes. I just did not expect you to listen to a woman, of all things.”

“So…” Stephen ignored the snippy comment and looked her up and down slowly, almost leering at her body underneath the voluminous gown. “Where would the fun be in just handing it back? What’s in it for me?”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Charity barely heard it. She could only focus on one thing: the challenge that stood in front of her at this moment. She had to get the list back; there was no alternative.

“So, what would you have in turn for the list, my lord?”

Charity’s eyes spoke volumes, and Stephen blinked in surprise, a fact she noticed with a small smirk. She expected that he had never met a lady quite so bold. It had to be equal parts refreshing and terrifying.

“What… what do you mean?”

Charity lifted a brow knowingly and shrugged her shoulders. “Well… I was thinking I’d offer you some help.”

“Help?”

Charity nodded.

“Yes. As I’ve mentioned, you need to let loose a little, have some fun. I could assist you in crafting a list of your own—in return for mine, of course.”

The roaring thunder had rolled closer to them, but neither party noticed. They were too zeroed in on one another to notice anything else. Within seconds, rain started falling.

Stephen acted quickly, scooping Charity into his arms and sprinting to the veranda. He removed his soaked jacket once they were under a roof, making sure she wasn’t too wet either. His shirt was clinging to him. Charity could see the tight muscles on his stomach and had to clutch her dress to keep herself from reaching out to him—he was truly a magnificent being.

She was sure he was asking her something, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his strong body. When she returned her gaze to his and asked, “hm?” she could see in his smirk that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“What are you two doing outside? Trying to catch a cold?”

Martin’s voice broke the spell between them, and Charity finally managed to tear her eyes away from Stephen.

“The horses won’t be able to travel in the downpour, even if it clears up. Charity, Emma should have a night-robe for you. You’re welcome to go and have a look.”

“I…” Charity looked from Martin to Stephen, confused. “I can’t stay the night.”

“Neither can I.” Stephen was quick to voice his objection.

“I’m sure my horses can make the trip.”

Charity glanced at Stephen. She knew, in her case, she didn’t want to stay because she might just lose all her virtue. Could he be thinking the same thing? Could he be worried of what would happen between them if they stayed under the same roof?

Surely the attraction was mutual, wasn’t it?

***

Martin looked at both of them as though they had lost all their senses.

“Are you both mad? A trip in this downpour would kill either yourselves or the horses. There’s not a chance that I’m allowing it. Charity, please do get a robe from Emma.”

Charity skulked away quietly, and Stephen smirked at this. “You must teach me your ways, brother.”

Martin looked at him, mildly confused. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Stephen gestured to the door through which Charity had disappeared. “To handle women, I guess! That young Charity is like a wild mare when I speak to her, but she turns into a foal when you do.”

Martin laughed at this and shook his head. “Perhaps, dear brother, the first trick would be to not compare women to livestock. Let’s get you a coat.”

“I never thought you’d turn out to be wiser than me,” Stephen teased his brother, and Martin laughed.

Stephen was quiet on their way to the chamber where he’d spent the night. He could almost swear that he caught a flash of red in the room next to his.

“So, I hear you are to be married.”

Stephen sighed. “Yes, father managed to sell me off to some duke’s daughter. Apparently, I’m meeting her tomorrow. Hopefully she’s somewhat like Emma. I tell you, brother, you were lucky to catch her.”

Martin grinned at this and leaned a little closer to his brother.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but… we believe that Emma is expecting. And I know our story does not have the most conventional start, but whenever I look at her, I am immensely relieved that I am not married to Theodosia but to the love of my life.”

Stephen grimaced at this. “Oh, the advantages of being the second brother.”

“Oh, come on, Stephen!” Martin shook his head quickly. “You know that Father would love to see you marry for love. You are just far too picky. No woman has ever been good enough for Stephen Huntington.”

At this, Stephen’s thoughts immediately drifted to the redhead in the room next door. His mind was obsessed with her, and he hated the feeling of it.

“Come on,” Martin interrupted his thoughts once more. “Emma and I usually have some fortified wine by the fireplace this time of night. Both you and Charity are welcome to join us, of course.”

At this, Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing her again, sipping at fortified wine when she was within touching distance, would be a reminder that they’d be spending the night under the same roof.

Yet, he followed Martin to the sitting room wordlessly. Charity and Emma were already draped over the lounge chairs as though they were posing for a portrait. Charity’s hair was beginning to dry, and it framed her pale face perfectly.

One thing was sure: this night would be terribly long.

***

She’d be spending the night within reach of this man who had an unfathomable effect on her. Charity had to force herself to concentrate on the wine in her glass rather than Stephen. Looking at him would only serve as a reminder that they’d be under the same roof which would inevitably lead to fantasies of spending the night with him… in his arms.

She could not help but look up. Stephen was looking at her with an intense expression, and her heart jumped.

Could it be that the proper lord was sharing her improper thoughts?

Charity wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. She had been drawn to his gentle demeanor since the first time she met him. She enjoyed teasing him. She’d also felt proof of his manhood in the gentleman’s club, with his fingers clutching at her hips. She was certain he’d be an incredible kisser… and more.

No. She couldn’t think that way. She had a list that she needed to get back and complete. She couldn’t keep dreaming about the same man for more than two nights in a row, even one as attractive as Stephen Huntington. Besides, it was pointless. Did she not know that better than anyone?

When she looked up again, Stephen was staring at her intently, and blood rushed to her cheeks.

She had to admonish herself for she was not like other ladies. Dreams of husbands and children, true love, and passion were not meant for her. She knew that.

She turned her attention back to the fortified wine in her glass.

Maybe she just needed to get Stephen Huntington out of her system, but she knew it would be a terrible mistake. A man like that would not leave one’s system without a trace.

How likely are you to recommend this preview to a friend?

0	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10

Submit