The Earl Takes a Lover Read Online Free

cough he made when he cleared his throat in conversation because he disagreed but had no intention of saying so. Those outer markers were there, but they did not matter. The core of him that lived as a mass in his chest or belly was what she knew, and no amount of knowledge about tea or politics could affect it. It was a form of alchemy and like so much about him, if someone had told her of it before meeting him, she would have laughed blithely in disbelief at the notion.
    â€œRobin,” she replied, nothing so blithe now, her voice gone low and gritty simply from the way he was staring at her. Maybe the week had worn on him, as well. It couldn’t be pleasant to be stalked, however politely, by a herd of marriage-minded misses whose idea of conversation was tedious at best. She backed up another step, lifting her skirt higher than she needed to in the process.
    Robin had not been planning to see her. He was late for church and the servants’ stairs were quicker; one could hurl oneself pell-mell down them without raising an eyebrow. But here she was, and he was in no mood to let the opportunity pass by. “Stop backing up,” he commanded, to little noticeable effect.
    She laughed at him. “Full of demands this morning, aren’t we? And if you don’t move, we’re going to get a scolding from Pru, not to mention the minister.”
    Robin was sure of only two things at that moment and unfortunately for both Pru and the minister, the time that church began was neither of them. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to want him to. “Church by all means,” he agreed pleasantly. “I’m not preventing you.” He backed up against the wall, giving her all possible room to pass, which was, thankfully, very little. She had done nothing but surprise him. In a distant corner of his mind, he wondered why he was surprised when she stopped on the stair above, her mouth level with his, and kissed him. It was bold. It was something a woman of experience would do, but her lips were not experienced. They were tentative and seeking and hungry and he all but groaned with pleasure and need.
    In four minutes on the stairs everything Pen had ever heard about kissing flew out the oriel window above their heads, to be supplanted by everything she was discovering for herself: the seamless joining of their mouths, the lovely suck and drag of his lips against hers and, when it came, the hot slide of his tongue that made her stomach muscles tighten in response and shivers run down her inner thighs. Under this onslaught, church was the least of what Pen forgot. She forgot her own name. She forgot every resolve she had made regarding her behavior where he was concerned.
    Robin was suffering the torments of a man who had just discovered that not just any woman would do; that, in fact, only this one woman would suffice, who was neither wife possessed nor whore for the taking. A violent urge to subdue that knowledge made him lay her down on the stairs, made him press the full-length of his body against hers; made her, in instinctive answer, widen her thighs and hold him in the cradle of her hips. He ground his cock against her, thwarted by several layers of extraneous clothing, and ground his teeth at his own lack of finesse. Over the years he’d acquired some, but it was gone now. Perhaps only lacking the experience to know the difference, Pen offered no complaint and met him with equal urgency, lifting her hips to meet his grinding thrusts, her hands clenching at his flanks to bring him closer. He was heavy, but she did not care about breathing. She cared about the hot, wet joining of their mouths, and his hands rucking up the green-sprigged muslin of her dress to reach the flesh beneath.
    Three steps above them Cedony, the above-floors chambermaid, coughed loudly into her hand. Toffs, she thought scornfully, always in the way of a body’s work. Although it was of some interest to note that the