Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(5)

Of late, the balloon had consumed him, and he’d sent her his regrets—a blunder on his part. His bollocks hung heavy and ached for release, but now he was off to Brighton. It was damn unfortunate. She had such a lovely mouth, talented in so many ways. His groin tightened at the thought. He’d simply have to bring her to Brighton for a few days of rowdy bed sport.

The sound of hooves interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see his gleaming carriage on the drive. It was a thing of beauty, pulled by four perfectly matched grays. Prime specimens of horseflesh. He nodded, pleased, and watched the way they moved until they trotted to a stop before him.

The footman hopped down from his perch and opened the carriage door. “My lord,” he murmured with a low bow.

“James,” Ethan acknowledged the man as he swept past him and set foot on the brass-grillwork step. The carriage dipped under his weight as he ducked inside and raised his finger to the brim of his hat. “Good morning, my dearest lady.”

Lady Sarah sat on the leather seat, swathed in a large shawl and looking as if she’d aged a year, even though only a month had passed since he’d seen her last. She held out her wrinkled hands in greeting as a strand of gray hair slipped from her bonnet to rest on her withered cheek. “Ethan, it’s such a pleasure to see you, child.”

“It’s been far too long.” Ethan smiled warmly in return. “I’ve been remiss in visiting.”

“Nonsense. Lord Stafford would be proud of how often you drop by.” Tears misted her eyes. “But here is my niece, Rosalyn Beaumont. Finally, the two of you meet…”

Ethan turned his head and Lady Sarah’s voice simply faded away.

The lass before him was a vision well worth beholding, a visual treat wrapped in a snug lilac gown with a neckline low enough to catch his eye. Though slimly built, her breasts were ample handfuls. The sight of those visible creamy swells pushing up against the fabric teased a half-smile to his lips. He slid a quick, appreciative gaze over her slender waist and halfway down her thighs before the fact she was Lord Stafford’s niece belatedly registered in his mind. As such, she would be a lass of genteel upbringing and hardly one to ogle. What had possessed him to forget? It was quite unlike him.

He lifted his gaze toward her face and noted first the dark silky strands of her hair slipping from her bonnet to fall over her shoulder in soft, loose curls, just the kind he liked to twirl around his fingers. And her mouth? Such pouty lips, warm and wet and so very pleasingly plump. Then finally, her eyes, a heart-stopping pair of honey-gold orbs, fringed with sooty lashes.

She was watching him. Closely. Almost as if she could read his innermost thoughts, and the expression there announced she’d definitely noticed his quick perusal of her charms. He locked gazes with hers. Few women possessed such sultry and sinfully wicked figures. They were works of art and to be greatly admired.

Her lips parted. “Pleased to meet you, my lord.”

“I assure you, the pleasure is mine, Lady Rosalyn.” Remarkably so. The journey would be a damn sight more stimulating now.

“Allow me to vacate your seat, my lord.” She rose.

The perfume of her hair teased his nostrils as she edged past him and took her place beside her aunt. By Jove. Her backside was just as exquisite. Really, it was nothing short of a travesty she was Lord Stafford’s niece.

Once they’d settled, he rapped on the window for the coach to start and the horses were off.

Lady Sarah began to chat. What about, Ethan had no clue. He did try to pay attention, but the more he tried to ignore Rosalyn’s physical charms, the more he only noticed them. The lass was damn attractive—and rather a tease, if truth be told. Surely, she knew the effect her breasts had on a man. Her neckline bordered on scandalous. The creamy mounds swelled in delicious handfuls, curving dramatically to her tiny waist, drawing attention to their size as well as the slenderness of her build at the same time. Was she athletic, perhaps? She seemed lean and muscular and her cheeks glowed a healthy pink.

Dimly, he heard Lady Sarah chattering as they trotted through London and out onto the open road. The topics ranged from plays, the weather, and her garden, but he found himself uncharacteristically distracted and recalled little of what was said.

Time passed.

Still, Lady Sarah continued to chat with liveliness he hadn’t seen in her for months. He tried his best to engage, but Rosalyn’s dark-lashed honey eyes proved beyond distraction. It was only when he saw her eyes widen in surprise that he realized he might have murmured a mindless ‘yes’ one too many times.

“I am amazed,” Lady Sarah was saying. “I never knew you were such an expert on raising radishes.”

Radishes?

“Do tell us,” Rosalyn chimed in with a wicked smile. “Surely, such unparalleled expertise wouldn’t mind sharing a tidbit or two.”

He locked gazes with the devious little tease, but instead of admitting his mistake, foolishly blustered on, talking through his hat of the details of radish care, keenly aware of Rosalyn’s mirth.

Never had he been more relieved than to see the inn appear on the horizon.

“I shall look forward to your radish carving demonstrations,” Lady Sarah said as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Ethan quirked his lip in dry amusement. Had he agreed to that as well?

He handed out Lady Sarah first, then Rosalyn and, as her gloved fingers brushed his, pleasure stabbed through him.