Wicked Temptation (Regency Sinners 6)(19)

“Poor lady,” Pru sympathized.

Titus gave a snort. “Poor Nik.”

Pru turned to face him. “Will you be seated next to me at dinner, do you suppose?”

“Why?” Titus became guarded at this sudden turn of subject.

She linked her arm through one of his. “Because I should like it very much if you were.”

Which did nothing to alleviate Titus’s wariness. “Why?”

Pru laughed softly. “For the very reason that it is obviously worrying you not to know what my motives are!”

“Minx.”

She maintained a sweet and insincere smile. “Tease.”

He did exactly that. “I thought you told me in the carriage earlier you had decided not to like me again?”

“I don’t,” Pru answered lightly.

And truthfully.

Because some time in the last few days, Pru had come to realize her true feelings for this man. She was in love with Titus Covington, Viscount Romney. That she had, in all probability, been in love with him for several months.

A man who did not completely trust her, even though he made no secret of the fact he desired her.





Chapter 7


Over the many courses of the dinner that followed, Titus learned what a true tease was.

It was having the woman you desired above all others putting her hand upon your thigh beneath the table as you attempted, and failed, to eat your dinner.

It was having that same woman give you an innocently sweet smile whilst doing it.

Having her fingers lightly caress along the length of your inner thigh.

The latter while she was conversing politely with Lord Cedric Holmes, seated on her other side.

Titus gave a groan as those marauding fingers now stroked lightly over his balls as the dessert dishes were cleared away.

“Are you quite well, Titus?” asked Lady Heather Smythe, the Countess of Carlton, who was seated at his other side.

He clamped his thighs together, effectively trapping Pru’s hand between them. “Quite well, thank you.” He nodded to the countess. “How is young Ralph?” he enquired after the lady’s five-year-old son, knowing Heather and Carlton were both besotted with the young heir.

Heather leaned forward to confide, “About to have a brother or sister come the spring.”

“Oh, that is good news,” Titus said warmly. “Maxim must be pleased.”

“Very.”

“You—” Titus gave another strangled groan as those fingers trapped between his thighs began to wriggle, no doubt in a bid for freedom, but instead succeeded in stimulating his balls even further.

“Are you sure you are feeling well, Titus?” Heather frowned her concern.

“It is probably a touch of indigestion.” Pru leaned forward to answer the other woman. “I believe it is a fairly common malady amongst middle-aged gentlemen.”

Titus choked on the sip of wine he had just taken.

Pru released her hand from his now relaxed thighs to give him several pats on his back. “Poor dear, the drinking of wine also seems to be becoming a problem for you.” Wicked humor glinted in her eyes as she looked at him with feigned innocence.

Titus’s narrowed gaze promised retribution. “If you will excuse us, Heather?” He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “The ladies will be retiring very soon while the gentlemen enjoy brandy and cigars, but I believe I should benefit more from taking a stroll on the terrace. Lady Prudence shall accompany me,” he added in a tone that brooked no argument.

How Pru stopped herself from laughing out loud at the expression of indignant umbrage on Romney’s face, she did not know. Instead, she continued to smile brightly as she stood to place her gloved hand on the arm he held out to her. She was aware of the interest of his friends and their wives as she accompanied him to the doors leading out onto the terrace.

Romney barely waited until the door had closed behind them before turning to face Pru. “Middle-aged?” he accused, eyes glittering darkly in the moonlight. “You think of me as middle-aged?”

“Well…you are fifteen years older than me,” she reasoned, her arm dropping back to her side.

“That is because you are very young,” he bit out. “I am in the prime of life, damn it!”

She winkled her nose as she pretended to give the claim thought. “But surely, if we are to believe the allotted ‘three score years and ten,’ then thirty-five is middle aged?”

Romney looked as if he was about to explode. “Do you really believe I am so old, I cannot have a cock-stand whenever I choose?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I seem to recall feeling a definite bulge in your breeches earlier.”

“A bulge in—?” He glared his disapproval. “Pru, you are becoming positively unmanageable!”

“You are the one who took it upon himself to wake me from my stupor of grief.”

“And it is something I am seriously starting to regret.”

She took a step closer. “Do you wish to manage me?”

“I wish to do more than that,” he rasped. “Indeed, I believe I shall do so.” He grasped her wrist and dragged her down the steps into the garden.

There were several lamps alight to illuminate the garden. “Where are we going?” Pru voiced her concern as Romney pulled her off the stone pathway.