Page 26 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

Cecil's laugh was warm and rich. "So it is. Though I must say, you're proving far more intriguing than any dowager's card lessons."

The next hand went to Elizabeth, and she couldn't suppress a triumphant smile as Cecil unbuttoned his waistcoat. The fine silk brocade joined his cravat on the desk, leaving him in just his shirt and trousers.

"The night is still young," he reminded her, eyes glittering in the firelight. "And you have far more layers to lose than I do."

Several hands later, Elizabeth had lost both her shoes and her shawl, while Cecil's shirt hung loose, partially unbuttoned. Thebrandy had left a pleasant warmth in her belly, making her bolder than she might otherwise have been.

"You never answered my question," she said, studying her cards. "About your mother's paintings."

Cecil's fingers stilled on his cards. "You're remarkably persistent."

"And you're remarkably evasive." She met his gaze steadily. "Even while trying to divest me of my clothing."

"Perhaps I simply prefer to focus on more pleasant subjects." His eyes traced the line of her scar. "Like how the firelight makes your skin glow."

"Now who's being evasive?" Elizabeth laid down her cards—another winning hand. "Your shirt, my lord."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he complied, each button coming undone with deliberate slowness. "You play a dangerous game, Elizabeth."

"I thought that was rather the point." Her voice remained steady, though her pulse quickened as his shirt joined the growing pile of discarded clothing.

The sight of his bare chest caught her breath in her throat. Broad and muscled, marred here and there with small scars—evidenceof a life lived fully. One particularly vicious mark curved along his ribs.

"Hunting accident," he said, noticing her gaze. "Though my mother always claimed it was punishment for my recklessness."

"Was she right?"

"She was..." Cecil paused, dealing the next hand. "She was many things. Kind, yes. Talented, certainly. But she was also..." He broke off, his expression darkening.

"What else?" Elizabeth asked softly, puzzled by his hesitation. "Are you not telling me more?"

His laugh held no humor. "You could say that." He studied his cards.

"Perhaps we should take a break from the game," Cecil suggested, his voice low and controlled. He stood up, the muscles of his bare chest catching the firelight, casting shadows that accentuated his powerful form.

Elizabeth's heart pounded as he moved around the desk, his intent clear in his eyes. She stood her ground, her breath hitching as he came to a stop mere inches away. The heat radiating from his body enveloped her, and she could smell the faint scent of brandy and the masculine aroma that was uniquely his.

"Cecil," she whispered, her voice barely audible. His name on her lips was a plea, a question, and an invitation all at once.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, then slowly trailing down her neck. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her. Her skin felt alive, every nerve ending sparking with awareness.

"You are exquisite, Elizabeth," he murmured, his eyes following the path of his fingers. They traced her collarbone, then dipped lower, skimming the edge of her gown. "Every inch of you calls to me, begs to be touched, to be explored."

She swallowed hard, her throat dry with desire. His words were as intoxicating as his touch, weaving a spell around her that made it impossible to think, to do anything but feel.

His hands moved to her back, deftly unbuttoning the fastenings of her gown. Each button released was a tiny surrender, a giving over of control. The gown slid off her shoulders, catching briefly on her hips before pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it, kicking it aside, left only in her corset, chemise, and stockings.

Cecil's breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with unbridled lust. "You are a vision," he said, his voice rough with desire. "A goddess disguised as a mortal woman."

He reached out again, his hands cupping her shoulders, then sliding down her arms. His thumbs brushed the sides of herbreasts, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She gasped, her head falling back slightly, exposing the long line of her throat.

Cecil leaned in, his lips pressing softly against the pulse point in her neck. He lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. Elizabeth's breath came in short pants, her body trembling with need.

His hands moved to her corset, expertly unlacing the ribbons. The constraining garment fell away, leaving her in just her thin chemise. The cool air of the room brushed against her nipples, making them harden into tight peaks.

Cecil's eyes dropped to her chest, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Look at you," he said, his voice thick with desire. "So responsive, so eager for my touch."

He reached out, his hands cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. She moaned softly, her back arching into his touch.

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