The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

wanted it to, mind. And if she’d spent any time at all wishing he would notice her, then it was the result of a fever or some other such malady. She was far too sensible to fall for such a man.
    Right now, however, his attention was most certainly fixed on her, and a little jolt of misplaced excitement tripped up her spine. His gaze wandered over her languidly, causing her heart to stutter. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, unused to such attention—from him, at least.
    “It will be quite some time before we reach our destination,” she said evenly. “Perhaps you should try and get some rest.”
    His eyes narrowed, and his lazy countenance shifted into something more…predatory. Sitting up slowly, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. The edges of his lips twisted up into a smile. “Perhaps I would rest easier beside you.”
    Oh! “That wouldn’t be proper.”
    His hand found her knee, and he began caressing it gently. She jumped at the tingles that swept though her, but in such a small compartment, there was nowhere to escape.
    “Why wouldn’t it?” He drawled. “I’ve already lain with you, Gwen.”
    Heat suffused her cheeks. Last night, they’d both been three sheets to the wind—something that was all too common for him, and not at all common for her. In fact, she’d never had more than a cup of punch or a glass of wine in London. There were far too many people watching in Town, too many rules to be broken. One too many glasses of wine, and a lady’s hard-won reputation could be ruined forever.
    But they weren’t in London now, and yesterday’s chaos had driven them all to indulge a little too much. Indeed, far too much.
    “We were not together in the biblical sense…”
    He crept toward her, his gaze heavy and intense. “We don’t know that, do we?”
    Gwen swallowed. She didn’t feel any different, but did that mean nothing had happened? She’d never even kissed a man before—let alone woken up in bed next to one. The experience was strangely invigorating.
    “A woman knows these things,” she lied, inching away from him.
    He slid into the seat next to her, his body so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. A shiver of excitement crept up her spine, but she struggled to push it away. None of this was proper—and every English cell in her body fought against this feeling. But it was like a monstrous wave, an irresistible pull. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. And she wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about it.
    He took her chin and forced her to look at him. “Tell me you don’t feel something between us, Gwen. I dare you to.”
    She closed her eyes. It’s the tonic . He doesn’t really feel this way, and when the tonic wears off, there will be no end to his anger.
    “Look at me, Gwen.”
    Her eyes fluttered open and their gazes collided. There was something in his eyes, an intensity that she’d never seen in him before. His unique scent surrounded her, that combination of spice and musk that always made her heart race.
    “Tell me you don’t feel something between us,” he repeated.
    She should deny her feelings. It’s what a lady would do—what society would demand of her. But she couldn’t . The words were stuck in her throat.
    “Precisely,” he whispered. “You can’t deny it any more than I can.”
    And then it happened. His lips captured hers, pulling her into a hot, desperate kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, dueling with her own, causing delicious little tingles to sweep through her entire body. He tasted like the toddy he’d just drunk, and a hint of something else—something dark and delectable. Something like sin.
    Slowly, the urgency of the kiss melted into something more languid, more intimate. She sank into him, drinking in the taste of his tongue, the feel of his hands gently cupping her cheeks. The feel of him was heavenly, and she never wanted it to end. Now she understood why women threw