Lady Myddelton's Lover by Evangeline Holland Page B

aching breasts. He thankfully obliged, one hand curving possessively around her waist as he tugged one taut nipple into his mouth and suckled through the thin fabric of her gown. She sighed in relief, and impulsively stretching her legs before her, she accidentally kicked him in the shin.
    Aline’s breath caught in her throat in fear when he froze against her, hoping he would not take that as a rebuff to his advances. To her surprise, he laughed, his amusement vibrating against her skin, and she could not help but join in his bemused merriment. She was now far, far beyond her initial shock towards this thoroughly unconventional “gift”, and she pressed shamelessly against him, rubbing her nipples against his chest, feeling rather akin to “The Lady” in Mrs. Glyn’s scandalous Three Weeks .
    She definitely would like to sin on a tiger skin, or err on some other fur.
    To her annoyance, he refused to allow her to touch him, grasping both of her wrists in one hand and holding them fast above her head.
    “Let me touch you.” She murmured, clenching her fists and tugging against his hold.
    He let out a huff of air against her throat and raised his head, the rasp of his jaw sending shivers of arousal against her sensitive skin.
    “I’m sorry,” He said abruptly, releasing her wrists and pulling away from her.
    Her arms dropped heavily to her sides. The fugue of arousal and anticipation muddled her brain, and Aline shook her head to clear it. “I beg your pardon?”
    “This was a simple mistake I should not have allowed to go this far,” He rose heavily from the couch and ran a hand through his rumpled hair.
    “Wha-what is wrong?” She stammered, suddenly feeling exposed beneath his chary glance.  “Was it something I did?”
    “No!” He hastily replied. “Aline—”
    The sound of her name, and spoken in that extraordinary accent, startled her, and she felt the desire burning in her belly morphing into a cold, heavy lump of dread and embarrassment. Idira and Maureen promised a stranger!
    “Who are you?” She managed to say, thankful for the flinty tone that masked her rapid pulse.
    He stared down at her and grimaced. “Richard Myddelton-Thorpe—or rather, the new Earl of Myddelton.”
    The first thing that came to her mind was his youth: “Why, y-you’re so young!”
    He frowned in confusion and lifted his shoulders. “I wouldn’t consider eight-and-twenty to be young.”
    “But you are Hugh’s second cousin—you should be closer to his age.”
    “Good God!” He laughed, his teeth a slice of whiteness in the dark. “Did you think me an old man when we began to correspond?”
    Aline did not know what to think, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. Twenty-eight! That made him a full six years younger than her. She felt him move towards her and she lowered her hand to glare at him.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way from Australia?” She then gasped, remembering the activity in which they had been engaged.  “And how dare you. How could you do…do—!”
    He shot a glance down her body and his mou th briefly quirked into a smile. The look he then gave her nearly made her forget her outrage and humiliation.
    “It was a mistake,” He replied carefully. “I should have never touched you.”
    Was that a hint of wistfulness in his tone? Aline shook off the thought and stared coldly, drawing on her unassailable reputation. “You should have told me who you were when you entered the house.”
    “Everything happened so quickly. What can I do to make it up to you, Aline?” As he said this, his eyes drifted away from her eyes and down to her mouth.
    “Lady Myddelton if you please,” Aline said crisply, crossing her arms over her breasts.
    “That will be confusing, will it not, since I am Lord Myddelton, but you are not my wife.” He quirked a brow at her, a dimple creasing his cheek in suppressed amusement.
    “You sir, are no gentleman,” She finally returned. “Please fetch