The Seduction of an English Scoundrel by Jillian Hunter Page B

cannot believe my mother is letting you take me off without a chaperone,” she grumbled.
    â€œWe have a chaperone.” He bore her toward the elegant black carriage that had pulled up behind them, looking pleased that she obeyed him. “Your brother is waiting for us in there.”
    â€œSimon . . . a party to . . .”
    He leaned into her, the playful mockery in his eyes darkening with sultry promise. She stared at his face, mesmerized, a blush burning its way up the back of her nape, her body softening in sinful anticipation.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she whispered.
    â€œDon’t look now, darling, but that press reporter is coming around the corner.”
    â€œMay I faint?”
    â€œAfter I get you into the coach.” He brought his head to hers, speaking in a soothing voice that reminded Jane he was no stranger to scandal himself. “Ah, good, he’s gone the other way. Let’s just wait a moment to be sure.”
    His breath teased the edge of her jaw, warm, a taunt to her senses. His broad shoulders blocked her from view. In a heartbeat she was consumed in heat, in confusion, in the heady presence of him. His left arm lifted as if to protect her. His mouth grazed her skin. It was a brief contact, a casual brush of his lips against the sensitive curve of her cheekbone. One watching may not have been sure whether he had merely whispered in her ear. But Jane felt the sensual power he wielded in every erratic beat of her heart.
    Her body temperature rose as she stood there, tingling in sheer pleasure, in anticipation. She half expected him to kiss her again, right there in the street.
    â€œEr, Jane,” he said, his deep voice startling her.
    She blinked twice. “What is it?”
    â€œGet into the carriage,” he instructed her with a laugh. “I believe you’re drawing attention to yourself.”
    â€œ
I’m
drawing attention?”
    He smiled into her eyes. “Yes. Perhaps you should get into the carriage.”
    She shook her head, trying to break the spell. “The carriage.”
    He looked amused. “Is something wrong?”
    â€œWell, it’s just for a moment I thought . . . I thought . . .”
    He pretended to look shocked. “Don’t tell me you thought I was going to
kiss
you right in front of your own house?”
    She drew her breath, mortified at his perception. “I never once—”
    He brushed his gloved finger under her chin. “You are a lady, Jane, and I am trying to restore your good name. If you really wish for me to kiss you, however, I shall be happy to oblige you inside the carriage.”
    The fact that he was making fun of her in no way weakened the quiver of pleasure that his touch sent through her system. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
    He made a sympathetic noise. “Shame.”
    â€œYes, you’re the shame,” she retorted, finally regaining her composure. “Why are those people across the street staring at me like that?”
    He crooked his finger at the footman. “I don’t know. Perhaps they wish they could kiss you, too.”
    She made a soft choking sound as she felt his large hand nudge her impertinently up the folding step. Too embarrassed to react, she glanced at the pair of footmen who flanked her like stone statues, apparently used to their master’s evil ways.
    â€œNo one has ever kissed me in public before,” she whispered over her shoulder, determined to make the matter clear. “I did not wish for you to do so.”
    â€œWell, if you change your mind . . .”
    She fought a horrible urge to laugh. “If Simon hears this conversation, he will certainly take you to task.”
    The glitter of deviltry in those blue eyes should have warned her. She climbed into the spacious carriage and stared in despair at the inert male body sprawled across the opposite seat. Some chaperone there. Her brother lay sleeping off the