The Seduction of Sara by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

wasting her time.
    Of the many reactions Nick had engendered in women—fascination, attraction, admiration, excitement, fear—none had ever looked so obviously unimpressed. In fact, the little vixen had begun to look past him, her gaze assessing a man just to his right.
    Nick’s interest fanned to a roaring flame. The dreary confines of the ballroom brightened, warmed, and gleamed. “I don’t even know your name.”
    She hesitated the briefest instant. “Lady Carrington. My husband died not long ago.”
    Ah. This is becoming more interesting by the moment. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    She said the words simply, without rancor or emotion, but so surely that he knew her heart was free. This was no grieving widow, but a woman in search of passion.
    Nick was a sensual man, and he would take great pleasure in sharing his bed with the fascinating Lady Carrington. But if they were to embark on a delightful flirtation, they would have to carefully mask their interest in one another whenever they were in public. For Nick, who had never had a truly clandestine relationship, the thought was unexpectedly provocative.
    He looked down at the little charmer. He imagined her naked and in his bed, her skin flushed by passion, her hair unbound and flowing over her shoulders. He imagined her breasts, full and lush,dewy from his kisses, the crests pink and thrusting. He pictured himself lowering himself between her damp thighs as he rode her until she cried out with passion. He saw himself bending over her, tasting her core, ecstasy nestled among her tight curls….
    Her gaze widened and she took an unsteady step backward. “I-I have changed my mind about the terrace, my lord. You won’t do at all.” She spun away, but her slippered foot tangled in her skirts and she tilted unsteadily.
    Nick caught her just before she fell. He let his hands linger possessively on her arms, his temper sparked. What does she mean, I won’t “do”? The little chit needs to be taught the cost of playing with fire . Especially the kind of fire that raged through him at this very moment, heating his blood, burning away his thin grasp on civility.
    She jerked free and fled for the safety of her tall friend.
    Swallowing the bitter taste of unfulfilled desire, Nick tried to still the blood that pounded through his body. Across the room, Lucilla attempted to gain his attention, her brows drawn in irritation, a petulant thrust to her lips. But Nick had no use for Lucilla at the moment. He remained rooted where he stood, watching the much-too-tempting Lady Carrington whispering to her friend, who stared at him with a mixture of horror and fascination.
    He tried to ignore the relentless ache in his groin. How had he allowed something as simple as thickly lashed eyes and a dimpled cheek to get past his defenses?
    Then Nick became aware of the avid gazes of two matrons who looked as if they’d like nothing better than to see him strung from the closest lamppost. Tonight of all nights, he did not need to make a spectacle of himself. One misstep, and he would find himself once again on the outside, looking in. He forced himself to remain in the ballroom, and allowed himself to be introduced to faceless woman after faceless woman. Word of his fortune soon spread and Bath society cracked open its door for the former prodigal son.
    But all evening, Nick was much too aware of Lady Carrington as she flitted about the room, smiling at anyone who caught her eye. Grimly irritated, he watched her progression. The ton loved scandal almost as much as it loved money and gorged itself on whatever tidbits were available. If she didn’t have a care, Lady Carrington would become the next main course—and if she became a social pariah, he would have to give her up. Society loved to declare guilt by association. Still…his gaze wandered toward her as she stood talking animatedly to her companion.