Page 6 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘Shh. It’s just me.’ She pressed her lips to his once again.

This time, he returned the kiss. His lips were firm, yet soft, his body enticingly warm, and his kiss sang through her veins. Her hands rested on his shoulders, surprisingly muscular and broad shoulders, she noted. She’d never thought him this large but touching him proved otherwise. His hand rested on her back, and warmth followed the path of his touch, heating more than just her low back. She snuggled closer, her nipples tightening beneath the thin cotton nightgown. She didn’t want to give him a chance to deny her. Not when she’d carefully devised this seduction. Not when her future happiness was at stake. And not when Rosey was expected at any minute.

‘Oh my, you certainly know how to kiss,’ she whispered against his lips.

He pulled back. ‘Miss, you—’

She pressed a forefinger to his full mouth. ‘Shh. Let’s not waste time. Kiss me again. With fierce passion. Just as I’ve dreamed.’

She pressed against him once again, his hot skin like sun-kissed marble. This time, his hand came up to cradle her face. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside. She was shocked at the first gentle thrust of his tongue, then quickly wanted more. She clung to him, her fingers moving from his shoulders to burrow into his thick hair. When her nails scraped his scalp, he stiffened for an instant as if deciding which path he would choose, then a coiled tension inside him released and the kiss changed. He slipped one arm around her waist and ravaged her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers. Heart thumping, an unexpected wave of pure heat crashed over her.

Goodness, he was a skilled kisser. No wonder women fell at his feet. Becoming a fallen woman would be much easier than she’d thought.

She wiggled closer. Fascinated by their differences, she pressed a hand on his chest. Strong and sure, his heart pounded beneath her palm. She breathed between parted lips as her fingers passed over slabs of muscles and a crisp mat of hair. Sandalwood and linen and his own masculine scent, hinting of danger, teased her heightened senses. He was even more stunningly virile than she remembered.

He seemed just as eager to explore her now. Lifting his head, his lips brushed a path down her throat and to the sensitive shell of her ear. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through her. She felt the heat in the strangest places. A tingling in her belly. A delicious warmth between her legs. She was warm and hot and shivery.

A soft moan escaped her lips, and she arched towards him. ‘Yes…that feels incredible.’

His voice was hoarse, passionate. ‘God, you were made for this. Who are you?’

Did he not remember their brief flirtation? Or, more likely, he’d dallied with more than one woman at the ball. Any answer was lost when his big hand ran up her leg—her thigh bare without stockings—and she suddenly understood how a woman could lose all inhibitions in the embrace of a skilled, passionate lover. At twenty-six, she’d wasted too much time. When would she get this chance again? Her mother had told her that her curiosity would be her downfall. As someone who studied science, she didn’t see it that way.

Especially not now.

Rosey would be opening the door soon. Now she wished she’d asked for a bit more time. An hour? Maybe two. If she was to be a fallen woman, then she should be able to select the rake of her choosing.

Him. Undeniably him.

‘Simon,’ she whispered, ‘I never imagined.’

He jerked back. ‘Who? Miss—’

The door opened and light illuminated the bed. Heart racing and feeling flushed, Nora sat up ready to face her future…and her freedom.

Her maid, Rosey, gasped, precisely as practiced. It seemed a long, loud gasp, but it was nothing like the reaction of the other woman beside her.

Her mother screamed.

Surely the high-pitched shrill would wake the dead, let alone their host and every guest of the house party.

Beside her, he tossed aside the sheet and stood. ‘What the hell!’

Nora turned at the sound of the deep masculine voice—entirely unlike Sir Simon’s lilting, lyrical voice. His voice had been low before, choaked with passion, and she hadn’t recognized it.

Dread settled low in her gut, at the dark and brooding Earl of Ralston standing stark naked beside her.

Devon, the Earl of Ralston, knew he’d been tricked.

And what a way to go.

He snatched the sheet and wrapped it around him before all hell broke loose and the rest of the house party woke from the hysterical screaming matron in the doorway. What would it take to get her to cease?

She pushed the door aside with such force a chip of plaster flew off the wall and missed his cheek by inches. ‘What is going on here?’

The Earl wasn’t sure if the matron was asking him or Nora Magarian standing beside him.

The mother turned her attention from him to the young woman. ‘What were you thinking, Nora?’