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“Oh dear,” her friend said softly. “How many fingers am I showing?”

Adel frowned. “You are being silly, Evie, and we have no time to waste. While I feel decidedly relaxed, I assure you I am not foxed.”

A snort sounded. “And what would you know about being soused?”

“I saw enough of drunkenness from papa after mother died.”

All the merriment wiped from Evie.

“Forgive me for dampening your happiness,” Adel said softly.

Evie rushed over and clasped her hand. “Never,” she said a bit hoarsely. “You could never dampen my spirits.”

Adel smiled. “Do you think I should change into a simple dress?”

Evie shook her head. “Your nightgown is perfect. Remember to go no farther than the door, and leave it cracked.”

“I will. Now wish me good fortune.”

Her friend’s throat worked. “Adel wait…I…I…do not believe it is wise after all, I—”

“Shush!” Adel said with a soft laugh. “Do not try to drain my hard-worked-for courage. Remember only you and your mother are to come. We want enough ammunition to encourage my father to feel obliged in accepting Mr. Atwood, not gossip fodder for your mother’s guests.” With a quick kiss on Evie’s cheek, Adel tumbled from her room, consternation biting deep. She did feel a bit wobbly? Or was it giddy anticipation of finally being free of Lord Vale?

With swift and somewhat sure feet, she followed the directions Evie had provided. The hallways were empty, but she could hear the faint din of laughter and clinking off glass from below stairs. The last time she checked, it had been half past three in the morning, but it seemed the house guests were determined to be merry until the crack of dawn. Even with such a dire assessment, no anxiety seared her. Selfish, selfish men. Ordering women to stay away from liquor fully well knowing the wondrous properties it possessed.

Footsteps sounded along the corridor, and she made a mad dash toward a linen closet and ducked inside giggling. She waited until the loud steps passed, then opened the door and peeked through the slight crack. Adel spied Viscount Ravenswood, Evie’s brother, standing at a door, looking left and then right. He knocked once and it was flung open to reveal another guest clad in a very sheer and provocative nightgown. A blush reddened Adel’s cheeks when the lady hugged him and her hand slid down to cup Lord Ravenswood’s backside. A husky laugh slipped from him, and as he kissed her and they tumbled into the room. The rogue!

Adel moved cautiously out of her hiding place and hurried along the hallway. After turning left, she counted until she arrived at the fifth door. With a quick glance each way along the hallway, she uncurled her clenched fist and retrieved the keys. A faint stirring of unease tried to rear its head. She closed her eyes and recalled the heavy and frightful press of the earl’s body against hers, his sweaty palms that had dug into the soft flesh of her thighs as he struggled to raise her gown. That, and perhaps much worse she had to look forward to, if she did not succeed tonight. Grief lay heavy on her heart. How she wished her father had listened to her pleas to wed Mr. Atwood. Firming her shoulders, she inserted the key and twisted. The door opened on a soft snick and she entered.

She leaned against the door. I’ve done it! The fire on the hearth had burned down to orange embers and there was a distinct chill in the air. She lost precious seconds standing by the door, wondering what next to do. Adel curled her feet into the expensive carpet, seeking warmth. Why had she not thought to slip her feet into slippers?

The bed creaked slightly.

She frowned. “Mr. Atwood?”

Maddening silence. Then a soft rumble rose from the bed in the far corner and she muffled a startled squeak. Swallowing a nervous chuckle she peered, trying to make out his form in the darkened room. Drifting closer, she muttered an unladylike curse as she stubbed her toes on something hard. She stooped and felt around.

It was the bed. How had it moved from that corner to here? Confusion rushed through her and she lurched upright. The sudden move made her dizzy and she stumbled, landing on the bed in an undignified heap onto a very hard body.

Good heavens!


Edmond was roused to full consciousness by the lightest caress. There was a soft weight on his shoulder, the heated press of a palm. The delicate tips of a single finger skimmed over his naked chest, the touch was tentative, curious even, a gentle foray that spoke of inexperience, yet his cock surged to life with painful immediacy. The betrayal of his body froze him, and he remained still as the caress became firmer, even more seductive, causing his length to flex, his heart to jerk, and his mouth to go ridiculously dry. Impossible.

He subtly inhaled. Her fragrance was clean and sweet. No cloying perfume, simply the fresh scent of lavender soap and roses. His reaction to this stranger was thrilling and unpardonable in equal measure.

“Are you awake?” The voice was raspy, seductive, and a bit fearful. Before he could respond she spoke, “Your body is harder than I imagined it would be.”

The awe in her voice was evident, and a fleeting smile touched his lips.

“Why are you sleeping without a nightshirt?” The pique in the tone was glaring.

Delicate fingers glided over his chest, dipping low, skimming over his tensed abdomen to stop at his hip. Edmond frowned as everything in him reacted. His cock twitched, his heart raced even more, and hot and urgent desire coiled in his gut. He savored the barest of touches, not realizing how desperate he’d been for a woman’s enticing embrace. Warring needs swirled inside of Edmond. He wanted to push away this unknown woman that smelled like temptation, but the need was also there to sate this surprising hunger—a hunger he had long denied.

Three years and seven months.

It was the desperation that grounded him, and allowed him to tamp down on his sudden lustful urges. He would never allow such emotions to hold sway over him again. He shifted with all intention of leaving the warm confines of the bed when the figure tumbled forward. A warm kiss pressed into the hollow of his throat, and soft feminine curves arched into him.


Tags: Stacy Reid Wedded by Scandal Romance