Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(101)

He dropped a hot kiss on her neck, then another. “Absolutely. This is folly.”

Then he belied his words by shifting her so her body pressed against his instead of the door. She no longer cared why they should stop. Her good intentions dissipated. Her bodice suddenly seemed less snug and she realized he had undone a few buttons. Heavens. The icy man of moments ago bore no resemblance to the man setting her body aflame. Scarbrough had never touched her this way, had never made her feel giddy and tingly, as if she might fly up into the clouds.

Scarbrough. Just the thought of her husband stiffened her spine. Hadn’t she always sworn to herself she would not be like him? Here she was, nearly making love in who knew what manner of chamber with Thornton, a man she didn’t even find pleasant. The man, to be specific, who had betrayed and abandoned her. How could she be so wanton and foolish to forget what he’d done for a few moments of pleasure?

She pushed him away, breathing heavy, heart heavy. “We must stop.”

“Why must we?” He caressed her arms, wanting to seduce her again.

“My husband.”

“I don’t hear him outside the door.”

“Nor do I, but I am not a society wife even if my conduct with you suggests otherwise. I do not make love with men in closets at country house parties. I don’t fall to his level.”

“Madam, your husband is a louse. You could not fall to his level were you to roll in the hay with every groom in our hostess’ stable and then run naked through the drawing room.”

She stiffened. “What do you know of him?”

“Plenty.”

“I doubt you do.” The inescapable urge to defend her wastrel, blackguard husband rose within her. How dare Thornton be so arrogant, so condescending when he himself had committed the same sins against her? And had he not just been on the verge of making love to a married woman in a darkened room? He was no better.

He sighed. “Scarbrough’s got scads of women on the wrong side of the Park in St. John’s Wood. It’s common knowledge.”

Of course it was, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. Especially not coming from Thornton, the man she’d jilted in favor of Scarbrough. “I’m aware Scarbrough is indiscreet, but that has little bearing on you and me in this moment. This moment should never have happened.”

“We are once again in agreement, Cleo.” His voice regained some of its arrogance. “However, it did happen.”

Her name on his lips startled her, but she didn’t bother taking him to task for it. After the intimacies she had just allowed, it would be hypocritical. She wished she could see him. The darkness became unbearable.

“How could you so easily forget your own sins? You had your pretty little actress all the while you claimed to love me.”

He said nothing. Silence extended between them. It was obstinate of her, but she wanted him to deny it. Thornton did not.

“Aren’t there orphans about somewhere you should be saving?” She lashed out, then regretted her angry words. That was badly done of her. But this, being in Thornton’s arms after what he’d done…it went against the grain.

“I think you should go,” she added.

“I would if I could fight my way past your bloody skirts. There’s no help for it. Either you go first or we go together.”

“We can’t go together! Your insufferable mother may be lurking out there somewhere.”

“Then you must go first.”

“I shall precede you,” she informed him.

“I already suggested as much. Twice, if you had but listened.” He sounded peeved.

The urge to stamp her foot hit her with fierce persistence. “You are a vexing man.”

“And you, my love, are a shrew unless your mouth is otherwise occupied.”

She gasped. “How dare you?”

“Oh, I dare lots of things. Some of them, you may even like.” His voice had gone sinful and dark.

The dreadful man. She drew herself up in full countess armor. “I’m leaving now.”

Then he ruined her consequence by saying, “Lovely. Though you might want to fasten up your bodice before you go. I should think it terribly difficult to convince my mother we were talking about the weather when your finer bits are on display.”

Her finer bits? It was the outside of enough. She slapped his arm. “Has the Prime Minister any idea what a coarse scoundrel you are? None of my…person would be on display if you hadn’t pulled me into the room and accosted me.”

“You were well pleased for a woman being accosted,” he pointed out, smug.

She hated him again, which was really for the best. He was too much of a temptation, too delicious, to borrow his word, and she was ever a fool for him. “You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Cleo gave him her back and attempted to fasten her buttons. Drat. She pulled. She held her breath. She tugged her bodice’s stiff fabric again. The buttons wouldn’t meet their moorings. “Did you undo my lacings?” she demanded, realization dawning on her.

“Perhaps.” Thornton’s voice had gone wistful. Sheepish, almost.

Good heavens. How did he know his way around a woman’s undergarments so well he could get her undone and partially unlaced all while kissing her passionately? Beneath his haughty exterior still lay a womanizer’s heart.