Almost Perfect by Denise Domning Page A

wholly unnerved at being caught in such a state.
    “It’s well past noon,” Lucien assured her, his tone that of amiable disinterest.
    Cassie stared at him. Who was this cool stranger, and what had happened with the warm man who’d waltzed with her last night? That man would have teased her for rising so late while leering at her state of dress. Mortification tore through Cassie as she considered the only probable explanation for his change. Roland had spoken to him even though she’d forbidden it.
    She was doomed.
    No, she was free. She no longer had to worry about keeping Lucien’s respect. That made her stomach ache.
    “At breakfast this morn, your sister and Lady Forster said you ailed. I hope I find you recovered,” Lucien was saying.
    “I am,” Cassie lied. Respect or not, how was she supposed to offer Lucien a game to win back her twenty pounds when he was now so disinterested?
    Lucien stepped to the door directly across from hers and put his hand on the latch. “Madam,” he said, indicating he was finished with their conversation.
    As Eliza’s future dissolved before her eyes with Lucien’s distant behavior, Cassie acted without thought. She turned her back to Lucien, lowered her shawl to her waist and pulled her hair to one side, then looked over her shoulder at him.
    “My lord, I cannot find my maid just now. Could you fasten my hooks?” she asked, speaking so swiftly that her voice sounded thready to her own ears.
    Lucien froze in front of his door. Cassie watched his gaze trace the slender length of her naked back from her waist to her nape. The terrible coolness in his expression melted. Heat again burned in his icy eyes when he raised his gaze to meet hers.
    Trapped in place by her need to save Eliza, Cassie burned in shame then roasted again in a slow, knee-loosening, heat-making pleasure that came from knowing he gazed upon her naked flesh. She gave a shaken sigh.
    The sound freed Lucien. “Happily, madam,” he said, a new hoarseness in his voice.
    Dropping his hat and gloves next to his door, he crossed the corridor. As he pulled the two sides of her gown closed across her back his bare knuckles brushed her skin. With his touch some of Cassie’s sense returned. Was she out of her mind?! If she did manage to convince him to game with her he’d never accept a mere dance or stroll as her stake after this. More to the point with each hook he fastened, hooks that Betty would have to reopen for Cassie to dress properly, her opportunity to propose that game narrowed.
    A tress of hair slipped down her back. Lucien caught it then let it slide between his fingers. Cassie shivered, cursing herself for wanting so much more of his touch.
    Oh bother. There was no room for regret now that the milk was spilled, and naming herself an idiot wouldn’t put twenty pounds in her purse. With nothing left to lose it was time to propose a wager.

     
    Never in his life had Lucien been more grateful for Devanney’s nagging. If not for his cousin’s harping about the idiocy of looking for a wife when he was just out of mourning, Lucien might still have been in the garden. How much better to be in this corridor, his fingers brushing Cassie’s naked back.
    He breathed in her rosy scent. The smell ate up his resolve to avoid her from last night. Instead, his senses overflowed with her nearness, and her bareness.
    Dear God, but he wanted to press his lips to her nape. He lowered his head a little, taunting himself with the prospect.
    His longing only worsened as he worked the hooks at the middle of her back. Somehow, he hadn’t taken Cassie as the sort of woman who went without a corset. It wasn’t that unusual. A good number of society’s well-bred women, including his own sister, went without one. However, none of those women inspired him to reach around and cup their unfettered breasts in his hands.
    Yet another tress slid from the mass of golden hair she’d pulled over her shoulder, tumbling down the length