My Lord Protecvtor
"I suppose you were raised around books since your father was a
learned clergyman," he said.
She did not respond for a moment. Why was it whenever he asked
her a personal question, she always hesitated before answering? Why
was he possessed by the feeling this woman was hiding something from
"Yes. There were always books," she finally answered.
"I don't suppose he expected a daughter to learn Latin?"
She gave a little laugh. "No, I never learned Latin."
"But my sister says your French is very good."
"Is that not a prerequisite for my position in your household, my
His step slowed to a stop. "You're not to speak of your position.
What have I told you since that first afternoon?"
She swallowed. Her lashes lowered. Her voice dropped. "I'm to be
treated as a member of the Beresford family."
Once again, she looked utterly vulnerable. And desirable. He moved
closer and settled his hands at her waist as his head lowered and
his lips softly pressed into hers. He had not thought about what he
was doing or what the lady's reaction would be. He'd acted purely on
unprecedented feelings. Which was completely out of character.
His first glimmer of cognizant thought was his expectation that the
incensed lady would push him away.
But nothing could be further from the reality. She made no effort to
break away. She clung to him like wet leaves, her breathing uneven,
her body trembling. Her kiss was everything he could ever have hoped
for: sweet, delicate, potent.
And he did not want it to end.