Seven Nights Of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors

He wore green, too, but his coat was laced with gold and his waistcoat embroidered heavily in what she was sure was real gold thread. He bowed and extended his arm. “Won’t you come inside, ma’am?”


His hat rested jauntily on the newel-post of the staircase. As Annie took a cautious step into the hall, her shoes rapping on the bare boards, he reached past her and closed the door. That brought him close to her, close enough for him to put his arms around her waist and gaze down into her eyes. “I have been longing to do this. You’re a witch, Annie Cathcart.”

Before she could move, before she could object, he kissed her.

Reaching up, she curled a hand around the back of his neck, holding him firmly so he couldn’t get away. This time she opened her mouth and let him roam, but she gave as good as she got. She stroked her tongue against his, and tasted him, the faint tang of brandy mingling with the rich, exquisite flavor of a man in his prime. He grunted, an essentially masculine sound that vibrated through her, arousing her to reach for him with her other hand, spreading her palm over his chest. Even through the layers of waistcoat and shirt, she felt his muscles flex as he drew her flat against him. His erection stood proudly, hard against her belly, making her moan with need.

He drew away, his breath heavy on her sensitized lips. “Do you want to see where I sleep, or do you want to see the house?”

“Are they mutually exclusive?” That was not what she meant to say at all, but perhaps it was what she meant.

“No.” With a short laugh, he pulled away, but caught her hand in his. “Come on. Ask all the questions you want to.”

Rapidly, he took her from room to room. The house was undoubtedly bigger than the one she had now, and the windows larger, which could make for a good shop later. When he took her into the back room, she moved closer to the window, eager to see how much space he had outside. “Plenty of space,” he said, “although my sister will not be pleased with your plans. She is a keen gardener and she will probably wish to remove the plants she is particularly fond of.”

“Dorcas?” Belatedly, she recalled her manners. “Lady Dorcas.”

“Dorcas is the name she is used to,” he said. He still had her hand tucked warmly in his. “You can’t see much in the darkness, but you said you’d taken a look around the outside, so you know the garden is a reasonable size. Would you build workshops there?”

She swallowed. “Yes, I suppose I would.”

He turned her to face him, a smile curving his mouth. “You suppose?”

“Yes. I have to think of the business first. I always wanted a house like this. Gracious and for the family alone. If I had the money I’d keep both properties, and use this for my family, traveling between this and the other. But that is not possible.”

“Is it not?”

Without hesitation she shook her head. “One day, perhaps I may do that.” Or not, since she was all but betrothed to Joseph.

He touched her chin. “What is it? The life left your eyes just now. I hate to see that.”

How was this virtual stranger so observant? Nobody else noticed her moods like he did. She would not get away with any half truths with this man, especially when he was so close. “I will move to Joseph Stephenson’s house once we are married.”

A line appeared between his brows. “You really intend to marry him?”

Despair filled her heart. “I have little choice. He won’t let me stay in his house if I do not. He’s promised to safeguard my sons’ futures, and that is all I can ask for.”

In a quick movement he took a stride to the door, snatching her hand in his once more. “Come and see upstairs.”

The house still contained some furniture, enough to give the place a comfortable, lived-in air. “You moved to Mayfair when you inherited?”

He sighed heavily, and took her up the stairs. They entered a drawing room. The few pieces of elegant furniture looked forlorn against the bare boards, now dusty with disuse. He wandered into the room. “I wish we still lived here.”

“But you’re an earl!” She bit her tongue on her inappropriate remark. “Of course you miss it. Why did you move here? You were always well-connected, even before you inherited the title. This is a stronghold of Cits.”

“I like it here.” He smiled, and ran his fingers along the polished arm of a nearby sofa. “We moved here because we did not wish society to visit us. We could still attend balls and suchlike if we wished, but they would have to travel across town. We were happy here. Now I have responsibilities I cannot shirk. Too many people depend on me, and I can’t run away from them. When I first inherited the title, I had ideas of appointing suitable managers and returning to my life here.”

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