Deb Marlowe - Scandalous Lord, Rebellious Miss

Slowly, his hand rose. Sophie’s eyes closed as, whisper-soft, his fingers brushed along her collarbone. Her head tilted as he caressed the one heavy lock that lay against her nape.

It was the tinkling of the scattering seed pearls slipping through her fingers that allowed sanity to intrude. Just in time, too, for once she was released from the sensual spell of Charles’s touch, her brain began to process what her ears had been trying to relay.

‘I’m sure he must be in here, dear, I left him here gathering up the jewels from my dress.’

Lady Dayle. Right outside the door. Sophie only hoped it was the proximity of the viscountess that caused the horrified expression on her son’s face as they both clambered to their feet.

‘There you are, my darlings.’ Lady Dayle had a distinctly sour-looking Miss Ashford in tow. ‘Haven’t you found all those pearls yet? I was just telling Miss Ashford about our plans for a picnic, Charles, and felt sure you wouldn’t mind if I invited her along.’

‘What plans are those, Mother?’

Charles walked away without a second glance, and Sophie had the distinct impression that that look of horror would have been there even had his mother not appeared.

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