Do You Want to Start a Scandal

He looked aside, as though he were choosing his words carefully. “Love has a way of rearranging a man’s priorities.”

“I should hope it does,” Charlotte said, laughing a little. “If it’s done right.”

“That’s precisely why love is the one luxury I can’t afford. I have duties and responsibilities. A great many people depend on my clear judgment. There’s a reason the poets say ‘falling in love,’ and not ‘climbing.’ There’s no controlling it, no choosing where one lands.”

That’s the heavyweight champion bare-knuckle fighter brother, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Just confirming that he didn’t, you know, have another, smaller, less violent brother.” Colin sipped from his drink. “We’d still do it, of course.”

“Yes, well. It’s difficult to look at your eyebrow when your head is so far up your arse.”

Then he mounted behind her, lashed one arm around her waist, and spurred his mount into a canter, carrying her off into the countryside. As if they were characters in some demented fairy tale.

The Prince and the Sea Monster.

Why?” She searched his face. “And don’t answer me with that nonsense about wanting and desire. At the moment, I must look about as desirable as pile of wet rags.”

The mental image had his cock hard as Italian marble,

-dried linen,” he murmured, “ironed smooth. A lavender and rose-petal pomander in the cabinet. Sips of chocolate at breakfast. Beneath it all, warm skin—washed with jasmine soap.” He straightened. “Yes. That’s the scent I favor.”

Charlotte decided to change the subject. “You wouldn’t believe what goes in these things.” She offered her perfumed wrists. “Here, tell me which scent you prefer. Lilies and whale vomit, or lemon balm and beaver’s arse.”

What are you doing to me? he’d whispered.

Charlotte had no idea.

But whatever it was, he was doing it back.

But seducing her wasn’t even what he wanted most right now. He wanted to lay his head in her lap and let her stroke his hair all night long.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmured.