Page 35 of Discovering Her Earl

“Mrs. Leighton,” Lainey nearly shouted in shock before a laugh escaped from the woman’s lips. Lainey knew Mrs. Leighton was not a prude. She was always a lot of fun on expeditions. But to say something so scandalous.

“Are you telling me you do not find the man handsome at all?” Mrs. Leighton’s chin rose as if challenging Lainey. There was really no way to get through this without the woman seeing the truth. Best to just get on with it then.

Lainey sighed. There was no sense trying to convince anyone she didn’t find him attractive. It would be like arguing the sky wasn’t blue.

“Fine. He is not unpleasant to look at.” It was the best she could do. “But it doesn’t matter. Looking is all I would ever do.”

When Mrs. Leighton rejoined the men, Lainey continued on to her room.

She felt out of sorts and couldn’t quite figure out why.

She disliked the earl and had for many years. Yet, she couldn’t help but like him as well. He was… charming. Worse, he was most charming when he wasn’t even trying. Lord help every female on the planet if he were to learn that fact.

She attempted to distract her unsettled thoughts by reading, but at some point the characters in the story she was reading transformed from the shy vicar’s daughter and the investigator to Lord Melville and herself.

She had been a vicar’s daughter once, but she wouldn’t consider herself shy. She had no qualms telling Lord Melville—Julian—how things should be, or more importantly how they never would be between them.

For that reason, the book didn’t fit with reality. However, the investigator in the story was said to be handsome and strong, as all heroes were expected to be.

She read the hero’s dialog with a soft, rumbling brogue, and modified the character’s description to include inky, black hair that did what it wanted, and eyes so blue they warmed a person to their very soul. And that mischievous grin that put his dimple on display. Those lips were surely for more than jests and laughter. He would know how to kiss a woman properly.

Would his mouth taste of the port he’d enjoyed after dinner?

Would he touch his tongue to hers? She’d heard that tongues were often used in sensual kissing. Not that she had personal knowledge of kissing at all.

It was rare for her to regret never being kissed. It was the way things were, and wishing for something different never did any good.

But at that moment, she did wish she had some experience to pull from so the fantasy she was weaving could be somewhat realistic.

Instead, she was left to guess such details as what he would taste like and what it would feel like to have him so close. His lips touching hers. Breathing the same air in the small space between them.

Where would he put his hands? At first, she envisioned them as one would during a dance, but no, that wasn’t how a man held a woman when he kissed her.

She remembered seeing Mr. McCabe—one of her uncle’s hired men—embracing a woman in Alexandria. He’d not known Lainey was there as he’d greeted his lover enthusiastically.

His hands seemed to be in constant motion as if he couldn’t wait to touch the next part of her and the next. Her hips, her waist, her bottom—he’d stopped there for a moment and gave that particular body part a squeeze as if it was a favorite—he’d also squeezed her breast which drew a pleasant gasp from the woman.

As Lainey remembered the encounter, she once again substituted Julian and herself in the roles of the couple.

Kissing, touching, breathing, moaning. Somehow, they were naked as her hands trailed over smooth, bare skin. She had seen a man without a shirt so she felt she did an adequate job imagining that, but she’d never seen a naked man below the waist so that part of her fantasy was a bit muddled.

It didn’t matter because the parts she had been able to visualize were pulling her into warm, blissful need. Her body burned and ached for him.

She heard his deep rolling voice telling her how much he wanted her. How much he needed her.

And she needed him as well. She didn’t know why or for what, but she had never needed anything more.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word sounding like a plea.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked.

“Yes.” She may have repeated the word more than a few times.

She felt his lips pull up in a smile against hers.

“Good,” he said. “Then wake up.”

She started awake, causing the book she’d been reading to slide from the bed to the floor.