The Scoundrel and the Debutante (The Cabot Sisters #3)

Roan tried to smile, but he could see the hint of despair and apathy in her lovely eyes, and it made him slightly ill.

Prudence looked away. She sipped her wine and put it aside. She trailed her fingers over bathwater that was now tepid, if not cool. “Our adventure comes to an end on the morrow, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to end there,” he said recklessly. Those hazel eyes could entice him to anything—to ignore his morals, his responsibilities. He knew it, but spoke his heart anyway. “Come north with me.”

Prudence smiled and looked up. “And do what? Present myself as your cousin? To people who might actually be acquainted with my family? And if I do, then what? It would end the day after that, would it not?”

Roan wanted desperately to say what she wanted to hear—that he would stay in England, or that somehow, against all odds, they would find a way to continue their adventure, and that he would court her properly. That he would make that offer she was waiting for. Perhaps he wanted to say those things to himself. But it was impossible—he had a family, a life, a thriving business in America, and people who were depending on the promise he’d made to his father about Susannah Pratt. Moreover, he had to take Aurora home. Aurora had made promises, too, but more than that, his mother was frantic about her daughter. He had to return her to his mother, if nothing else. As much as he would have liked to, as desperately as he wanted to, Roan simply couldn’t play swain to Prudence’s debutante.

She misunderstood his silence. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I knew from the beginning that no matter what happened, this would never be more than a lark. I will look back on these few days with great fondness and...and gratitude.”

“Gratitude,” he said bitterly, and closed his eyes. He felt awful—anxious and angry, at complete odds with himself. “A strange word, given that I have taken terrible advantage of you, Pru. I have taken something from you that can’t be replaced.”

“Roan!” She sat up and cupped his chin with her hand. “How can you say so? I followed you. I gave you every indication. I wanted you so, Roan. I wanted you to touch me. I wanted to feel—” She groaned. “I wanted to feel all of it! I’m not a girl. I knew what I was doing.”

Roan searched for the right words to say and found none that could possibly describe the torment in him. “Neither will I ever forget these days,” he said, instantly finding those words inadequate. He leaned up, too, took her hand in his. “Never, Pru.”

She smiled at him with such tenderness that he could feel it swelling in his heart...but then her smile turned impish. “My adventure is not yet over, is it?”

Roan smiled, too. “No. No, it is not.” He rose up like a beast from the tub, water dripping everywhere, and picked her up. He stepped out of the tub and carried her to the bed, laid her on her back and crawled over her.

She stroked his face, his wet hair. “Roan.”

Roan’s body and his heart reacted instantly to his name whispered on her breath. Something had burst in him, something tender and caring, something that burrowed through to the dark, dank places of his soul that had never been touched before.

Prudence sighed and exposed her fragrant neck to him, inviting him. He kissed the point just behind her earlobe and slipped his arms behind her back, crushing her to him. “I want you,” he said against her skin. “I want you so, Prudence.” He filled his hand with her breast, kneading it, then moving down her body, still moist from the bath.

Roan could feel her body pulse with his touch. He could feel the race of her heart, the heat in her skin. Her scent, her weight in his arms, her softness aroused every fiber. He was ravenous for her.

He took her breast in his mouth and felt his pulse leap at the sound of pleasure she made. The urge in him felt vital; he believed he’d never desired a woman as completely as he did this night, in this English inn. The need to be in her, to fill her with himself was overwhelming. He pressed his erection against her, moving, feeling her body next to his. He pushed an image of Susannah from his mind’s eye, as well as the burgeoning question of whether he could ever feel anything even remotely close to this for her.

He slipped his hands in between Prudence’s thighs, his fingers moving into the slit of her sex.

“Oh God,” Prudence moaned.