Page 24 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"You're playing with fire," Elizabeth managed, though her voice emerged breathier than intended.

"No, my dear." His fingers finally made contact with her skin, tracing the line of her scar with deliberate slowness. “I'm playing withyou. Every touch, every glance, every moment of distance...it's all designed to make you want more."

Elizabeth's heart thundered against her ribs at his bold declaration. "You're very sure of yourself, my lord."

"I am." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Because I can feel how you tremble when I'm near. How your breath quickens when I touch you. You may resist now, but soon enough..."

Elizabeth's heart thundered against her ribs at his words. His fingers still traced her scar, each light touch sending sparks of awareness through her body. "Perhaps," she whispered, surprised by her own boldness, "I don't want you to stop."

Cecil's hand stilled against her neck. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Then show me." The words emerged before she could stop them, hanging in the air between them like a challenge.

His other hand came up to cup her face, tilting it toward the candlelight. "Look at me, Elizabeth."

She opened her eyes to find his gaze dark with barely contained desire. The intensity there should have frightened her, but instead it made her feel powerful, wanted.

"I am not a gentle man," he warned, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "And you are far too tempting in your nightclothes, walking these halls like a ghost seeking absolution."

"Is that what you're seeking?" she asked softly. "Absolution?"

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "What I seek would shock your sensibilities, wife."

"You underestimate me." Elizabeth lifted her chin, though her voice trembled slightly. "I am not some fragile bloom to wilt at the first hint of passion."

"No," he agreed, his fingers sliding into her hair, loosening pins until curls tumbled around her shoulders. "You're something far more dangerous. A temptress who claims to want no children, yet stands before me in nothing but silk and moonlight."

"Cecil..." Her voice emerged as little more than a breath.

"Shh." He stepped back abruptly, leaving her swaying at the sudden loss of his touch. "Go back to your chambers, Elizabeth. Before I forget myself entirely."

"And if I don't want to go?"

His laugh was low and dark. "Then tomorrow night, you'll join me in my study. We'll play a game of my choosing—one that will show you exactly what kind of man you're provoking."

Elizabeth's pulse jumped at the promise in his voice. "What kind of game?"

"One where the stakes are measured in cloth and skin." He moved to the door, his control visibly strained. "Goodnight, wife. Dream of me."

She watched him leave, her body humming with unfulfilled desire. Only when his footsteps faded did she notice she was trembling.

The paintings watched silently from the walls, their subjects caught forever in moments of innocent joy. Elizabeth wondered what Cecil's mother would think of her now, standing in her former sanctuary with her hair tumbled down and her body aching for a man who promised both pleasure and ruin.

"What secrets did you keep?" she whispered to the nearest portrait. "What truths lie beneath these brushstrokes?"

But the paintings kept their counsel, and Elizabeth was left alone with her racing thoughts and the phantom sensation of Cecil's touch still burning on her skin.

The following evening found Elizabeth outside Cecil's study once more, though this time fully dressed in an evening gown of deep emerald silk. Her hand trembled slightly as she knocked, remembering his promise from the night before.

"Enter," came his familiar command.

The study looked different tonight. The massive desk had been cleared, a deck of cards and two crystal glasses of brandy arranged precisely on its surface. Cecil stood by the fireplace, his evening attire immaculate save for his missing coat.

"Ah, my fearless wife arrives." His smile held a predatory edge that made her pulse quicken. "Tell me, did you dream of me as instructed?"

Elizabeth forced herself to meet his gaze steadily. "I believe you promised me a game, my lord, not an inquisition."

"So I did." He gestured to the chair across from his. "Though I wonder if you'll be quite so bold once you hear the rules."

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