Page 48 of A Wicked Game

“I got all sweaty from the running.” A ladynevermentioned perspiration, but she was past the point of desperation now.

“You’ll get even sweatier with me.”

She swallowed audibly and Morgan laughed.

“Just come to my house, follow me upstairs to my bedroom, and let me do unspeakable things to you.”

She sent him a scolding look. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Itiseasy. Seriously, the longer you put it off, the more nervous you’ll get.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“No? Then why is your knee jiggling about like that?”

Harriet slapped her hand over her thigh to still the instinctive tremor. “I’m unused to running.”

“If you’ve changed your mind—” he drawled. “I quite understand. The life of an adventuress isn’t for everyone.”

Oh, he knew just how to taunt her, the beast.

She lifted her chin. “I haven’t changed my mind. Tell him ‘Hanover Square.’”

He eyed her a moment longer. “You’re sure? Won’t your father be expecting you home?”

“He’s gone to visit that Mister Bronte you introduced him to the other night. He won’t be back until teatime.”

Morgan looked entirely too pleased with himself. “That leaves more than enough time for debauchery.” He lifted his fist and hammered on the ceiling of the carriage to get the driver’s attention. “Hanover Square.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Harriet couldn’t decide if this was the best decision she’d ever made in her life or the worst. She’d thought turning the tables on Morgan would be so clever, that she’d be the one controlling her own seduction. Demanding it, even. But she didn’t feel in control at all. Her pulse pounded in her throat as the carriage bowled along, and she stared out of the window to avoid looking at him.

She could do this. She wanted this. She’d wanted this foryears.

Morgan was right. Women all over London were probably making love right now.

In a few short minutes she’d be one of them.

She gulped. This was going to be her first great adventure—and all without leaving London.

The coach clattered to a stop in Hanover Square far sooner than she would have liked. She briefly considered telling him she’d changed her mind, then saw the knowing glint in Morgan’s eye and just knew he was waiting for her to cry off.

Never.

“We can’t just go in through your front door!” she hissed. “What if someone sees me? I’ll be ruined.”

“True.” Morgan directed the driver around the back ofthe house, and they pulled into a cobbled mews yard. He helped her down. A tall iron gate led to a neat rectangular garden, and then they were ascending a short flight of steps and passing through a shiny black door.

Harriet glanced around with undisguised interest. The tiled hallway was large, with a handsome console table and pier mirror on one side and a large Chinese porcelain pot that the brothers were using as an umbrella stand on the other. A set of stairs led down, presumably to the kitchens, while another set curved upward overhead. A silver card tray sat on the table, filled with an abundance of letters and invitations.

“Well?” Morgan asked drily. “What do you think of my evil lair?”

“I’ve never been inside a bachelor’s lodgings before. It’s… tidy.”

He smiled at her surprise. “What were you expecting? Half-dressed harlots swinging from the chandeliers and half-eaten dinners on every surface? Muddy boots all over the floor?”

“Something like that,” she admitted wryly.

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