innocent.
There were no innocents among the demimonde of Paris or the dirty streets of Rome. Which was why every diminutive inch of this little charmer spoke to his soul, lifted his spirits, and lessened the ache in his head.
Somehow, he found himself capturing her slim hand, his gaze irrefutably drawn by her tender lower lip, which begged to be tasted.
Nick lifted her hand and placed a warm kiss to her delicately gloved fingers. âI beg your pardon for not watching where I was stepping. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Nicholas Montrose, the Earl of Bridgeton.â
She dipped a curtsey, her hand tightening over his. âHow do you do? I was hoping to have a word with you, my lord.â
The calm, self-assured voice was at odds with her youthful appearance. Nick was intrigued; whichwas sheâa blasé creature of society or a country innocent attempting to hide her inexperience behind a mask of composure? His gaze lingered on her eyes. They were the pale blue of a morning sky, fringed with ridiculously long lashes that tangled at the corners. âHave we met before, Missâ¦â
âWeâve never met, but Iâve heard of you from many people.â
He moved his thumb over the back of her hand in a brief, tantalizing movement. âPerhaps I can dispel some of the rumors.â
âI doubt it.â She freed her hand as her tongue slipped nervously across her lower lip, and her gaze darted toward the cardroom before settling back on him. âI donât mean to pry, but Iâve heard it said that you are a known rake.â
Amusement banished the last vestige of his boredom. âAt times.â He would have agreed to anything after witnessing the tantalizing trail of moisture left by her pink tongue.
She nodded once, then said in a well-rehearsed manner, âIt is quite stuffy in here. It would be pleasant to take a turn about the terrace.â
His attention jerked from her mouth to her eyes. âI beg your pardon?â
âI said, âIt is quite stuffy in here, and it would be pleasant to take a turn about the terrace.ââ Her brows lowered. âPerchance you donât hear well?â
âNo, indeed. I just didnât expect such aâ¦munificent offer so early in the evening.â He raked a gaze across her petite form, taking in the generous swell of her breasts and the graceful slope of herwhite shoulders. Munificent, hell. A dull ache lifted in his groin and swelled.
The heat intensified when she gave an impatient sigh, the movement pressing her bosom against the thin fabric of her gown. Small, embroidered roses rested at the cleft of her breasts, and they rose and fell with her every breath. Nickâs cravat tightened a notch.
It was a dilemma. The old Nick would have taken her up on her offer and swept her onto the terrace, pleasuring her until she cried out with ecstasy. The new Nick realized that such an action would cause the pudgy matrons of Bath to slam shut many of the doors just now opening for him.
With true regret, he looked down at his fascinating companion and shook his head. âIt wouldnât be wise for us to leave the safety of this room.â
She could not have appeared more astounded if heâd announced he was the pope. âBut I have asked a friend to serve as chaperone.â
Nick followed her gaze to where a tall, auburn-haired woman stood by the terrace door. It was tempting. Tempting, butâ¦âAnother time, perhaps.â
After a moment of stunned silence, she cleared her throat and then spoke in a slow, careful voice, as if she suspected him of limited understanding. âYou wonât even join me for one moment?â
Nick wondered if she was one of those silly females who viewed his appearance and title as a challengeâa trophy to be won and then displayed. Yet she did not appear enamored of his appearanceor title. Indeed, she lookedâ¦annoyed. Almost as if she thought him guilty of