Page 7 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

His erection pushed against her pelvis and evoked an immediate response in her, which she hadn’t expected. Her own core clenched in response, and when she sucked in another breath and drew the twin scents of him into her chest, she made the most embarrassing little whimper in response.

And actually flexed her hips forward, cupping his hardness.

You are sexually aroused by a stranger who is groping you in the dark?

Oh dear. Perhaps she’d been spending too much time studying A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts, or another of her illicit naughty books.

The stranger, meanwhile, had gone very still.

Now he cleared his throat. “I feel I need some clarification. Ye are, in fact, a woman?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, easier now that his forearm rested against her collarbone instead of her throat. “Unless you are regularly burgled by men in gowns?”

She felt him laugh—or rather, she felt his quick exhale, that thing Bull sometimes did to show something was amusing without actually having to laugh.

“Madam,” he intoned, finally straightening away from her. “I wouldnae put it past him.”

Him. Her assailant had thought her a specific person.

Strangely bereft now his hardness no longer pinned her against the wall, Felicity fought for equilibrium. She tried for her haughtiest tone when she sniffed and lifted her hand to her ruined braids.

“Sir, I would advise you to vacate these premises immediately. I know the owner would take great personal offense at being burgled.”

“Och, do ye?” He drawled. Although he no longer pressed his body against hers, she could feel his hand on the wall beside her face, feel the way he leaned forward. “How well do ye ken the owner, lass?”

She shivered.

“Not well—I mean, quite well. Yes, yes indeed. Mr. Calderbank and I are on quite good terms.” Lies upon lies. The man abhorred her. “I know for a fact he would respond most vigorously to a housebreaker.”

“Vigorously? Mayhap ye do ken him. Why are ye here, lass? A bit of house-breaking yerself? Ye’ll find nae jewels or fine art.”

Well, of course she wouldn’t; the walls were as bare as the rooms. But Felicity merely sniffed, pretending outrage. “I most certainly am not a housebreaker, sir!”

When he spoke, she felt his breath upon her lips. “Neither am I, lass.”

There was something…

She needed to respond…

Words.

Forming words….

Hard.

All thought had left her at the realization of how close his lips were to hers.

She could lean forward and touch him. Kiss him.

This unknown man who’d attacked her, who intended harm, who’d somehow raised these feelings she hadn’t experienced in too many years.

Are you mad? Why would you want him to touch you further?

Yes, yes, she was mad. That was the issue. Her core still throbbed in need, and she was considering kissing a man just because she liked his scent.

Madness, indeed.

Perhaps, when you are once again safe in your chamber, you should consider picking up The Harlot’s Guide and taking care of this little nagging distraction yourself.

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