Rosemary Rogers - Bound By Love

“I have seen the manner in which you stare at Leonida.”

“And how is that?”

“Like I stare at Brianna.”

Stefan shook his head. No. Edmond was captivated with his bride beyond all reason. What Stefan felt for Leonida was an explosive combination of suspicion and smoldering lust.

“I will not deny she is a beautiful woman.”

“And you want her in your bed?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, easily imagining Leonida spread across his sheets, her alabaster skin drenched in moonlight and jasmine.

“My bed and the women who might warm it are not a subject I discuss with anyone,” he warned. “Including you, Edmond.”

Edmond chuckled. “I am just pleased to know that you are not entirely determined to live as a monk.”

Stefan arched a brow. There were several lovely widows in Surrey who would be shocked by the mere suggestion.

“Hardly a monk.”

“Why, you cunning fox. Who is she?”

“Shall I come in the morning to collect Brianna and Miss Karkoff?” Stefan firmly put an end to the conversation.

Edmond’s smile was taunting, but he willingly allowed himself to be diverted. “If you do not mind the intrusion?”

“On the contrary.” Stefan glanced toward the brightly lit Hillside where he could see the silhouette of a slender woman standing near the window. Leonida. “I have rarely looked forward to something with such anticipation.”

THE PRIVATE QUARTERS of Meadowland proved to be as exquisite as the rest of the estate, if a bit shabby.

Left alone in her chambers, Leonida wandered through the small parlor decorated in soothing shades of ivory and gold, her hand lightly stroking over the back of a satinwood sofa before she headed into the matching bedroom. A canopied bed draped in cream satin was set in the center of a Persian rug and above the ceiling was painted a blue sky with tiny cherubs. Across the room, a large armoire was situated next to a bay window that overlooked the ornamental lake.

A lake.

So…her rooms must be set near the Duchess’s, she realized, unconsciously licking her dry lips. Yet another stroke of fortune.

Oddly, Leonida did not feel particularly fortunate.

She had spent last night tossing and turning after her impetuous suggestion that she and Brianna come to stay at Meadowland. This might be the perfect opportunity to discover the letters, but she was wise enough to sense that she was walking directly into a trap.

Unlike most aristocrats, the Duke of Huntley was no fool. If he allowed a woman he did not trust into his home, then it was only because he had his own devious plot in mind.

Leonida could only hope that she was clever enough to outwit him.

She shivered despite the heat in the room, then with a tilt of her chin, she forced herself to thrust aside her cowardly thoughts and begin a thorough search of the armoire. It hardly seemed likely the letters would be hidden in a guest chamber, but she would leave no stone unturned.

Besides, she dare not seek the Duchess’s room until she could be certain she would not be seen.

Finding nothing in the armoire but the clothing that Sophy had unpacked just moments before, Leonida turned her attention to the mirrored dressing table, pulling the drawers open to discover a silver-backed mirror and matching brush as well as several expensive bottles of perfume. She had just tugged open the bottom drawer when a familiar tingle raced over her skin, warning her that she was no longer alone.

Slamming the drawer shut, she rose jerkily to her feet and turned to discover Stefan leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across her chest.

Despite the fact she had seen him less than an hour before, her heart gave its familiar jerk as she met his dazzling blue gaze.

He was so damnably gorgeous. Even attired in a plain green jacket and buckskins, his dark beauty was enough to steal the breath of any woman.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, refusing to glance down and ensure her white muslin gown with a black ribbon threaded through the bodice and seed pearls stitched along the hem was not wrinkled from her short journey. It was bad enough her hand had already lifted to touch her curls that had been twisted into a complicated knot on top her head.

“I wished to assure myself that you were settled. I hope the chambers suit you?”

“Very much, thank you.”

His gaze shifted over her shoulder, lingering on the dresser. “You appeared to be searching for something. If there is anything you need…”

“No, I was simply assuring myself that Sophy had packed all that I requested,” she interrupted, her voice rushed.

“Ah.” His expression was impossible to read. “And did she?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“If not, you need only let me know and I shall send one of my servants to collect it for you.”

“That is very kind of you.”

A slow, tantalizing smile curved his lips. “I desire you to feel welcome at Meadowland.”

Her mouth went dry, reminding her that there was more than one danger in residing beneath the same roof as the Duke of Huntley.

“Where is Brianna?”

“Saying farewell to my brother.”

“I see. Perhaps I should say goodbye, as well.”

His wicked laugh brushed over her skin like a caress. “I doubt they would welcome the interruption at this precise moment.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Oh.”

“Hmm.” Without warning he reached to brush a finger down her cheek. “I wonder if that blush is real. Are you as innocent as you appear to be?”

She hastily backed away, not halting until her back was pressed against the carved post of the bed. A mere touch should not make her stomach clench with excitement.

“Your Grace.”

Prowling forward, the Duke did not halt until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her gown.

“My name is Stefan.” He reached to grasp the post just above her head, his brooding gaze trained on her lips. “Say it.”

A voice whispered in the back of her mind to slap his handsome face. It would be a disaster to allow this man to realize just how susceptible she was to his potent masculinity.

That voice, however, went unheeded as her body softened and her pulsed raced. How was she supposed to think when his spicy male scent was clouding her senses?

“Stefan,” she breathed.

His head dipped down to stroke his lips over the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“Again.”

She trembled. “Stefan.”

“Beautiful.” He gently nipped her skin, his hand skimming up the curve of her waist. “You are so beautiful.”

Her knees went weak and Leonida was forced to grasp the lapels of his jacket to keep upright.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked huskily.

His fingers shifted to trace the edge of her bodice, the light touch making her stomach clench again with a thrilling sense of exhilaration.

“Because I must know.”

“Know what?”

His mouth traced a path of kisses up the line of her throat. “If your skin is as smooth as I have fantasized it to be.” He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “If your hair smells of jasmine.” He explored the heated skin of her cheek before hovering just above her mouth. “If your lips taste as sweet as they appear.”

“You must not…”

Her words were halted as he covered her mouth in a fierce, shockingly brazen kiss.

Leonida’s breath tangled in her throat and her heart forgot to beat as her lips parted beneath his insistent demand. Over the years she had occasionally been kissed by hopeful gentlemen. A few had even been quite skilled. But never had such a simple caress seared through her, melting her resistance with a terrifying ease.

His lips tasted of brandy, as if he had sipped the spirit before entering her room, and his tongue teased hers in an oddly erotic dance. She felt dizzy, his male scent stirring her senses as surely as the clever fingers that cupped her breast in a possessive gesture.