Gina Conkle

The saucy Miss Tottenham slipped the strawberry into her delectable mouth, all the while looking at Cyrus. His thigh muscles tensed inside the velvet prison of his breeches. Hot pleasure shot through his body at the sight of the red berry slipping through her lips. Adding to his misery, a spurt of juice from the tender morsel painted her bottom lip red. He nearly groaned. Tradition named the apple as the fruit of man's downfall, but tonight he'd argue mightily for the dangers of a ripe strawberry on a certain woman's lips.

Her feet shifted underneath her. ____ not sure what troublesyou.__he wolf prowled, though he sat in a great chair. His uneasinessmade her skin tight and her heart race. Hakan was a handsomeman, very appealing to all of the fairer sex tonight with his blackjerkin stretched across broad shoulders. He had shaved for theGlima festival, and his blonde hair, lighter from summer, loosenedfrom the leather tie.__any thoughts trouble me tonight, but Astrid__ not one ofthem._ In the dim light of the longhouse, his white teeth gleamedagainst his tanned face.__oes your head ail you?_ She clasped her hands together,comfortable with the role of nurturing thrall.__ay, but __would please me if you sat close to me and playedyour harp.___usic would be pleasant._ Skittish and studying him underthe veil of her lashes, Helena retrieved her harp.She sat cross-legged on a pelt near his chair. __was easy tostrum a soothing song and lose herself in the delicate notes herfingers plucked. But when the last note faded, the restless wolfstirred on his throne, unpacified.__hy did you play that game with Astrid? Letting her thinkmore goes on between us?__ce-blue eyes pinned her, yet, __was his voice, dangerous andsoft, that did things to her.___I don__ know._ Her own voice faltered as warmth flushedher skin.Glowing embers molded his face with dim light. Hakanleaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. His sinewy handplucked the harp from her, placing it on the ground.__hy?_ Hakan__ fingertips tilted her chin.

Claire coaxed free another loop of cloth. The slow side of cotton against cotton matched the soft tenor or her voice.'I have lots of talents Mr. Ryland. Listening is only one of them.

Growing up a steward's daughter on the grand Greenwich estate afforded her many opportunities. But life changed one fateful night, a reminder of who and what she was. Since then, she labored hard, building calluses anew on her hands and heart, all in an effort to fall into a deep sleep every night and forget what had happened years ago. Many more years of hard work stretched ahead of her. Why not sip champagne once more? What harm could come of that?

Her feet moved into the vast space, but all she couldsee was Cyrus. He strode through the room the way acaptain commands his ship. Was it possible his maroon bruise made him more dashing? He was a fine sight in a black broadcloth coat. Hersalacious gaze dropped to a brass button lower on hiswaistcoat. The metal glimmered, winking at her withflirtatious intent very near the tuft of hair she rememberedso well at his navel. The corner of Cyrus__ mouth crooked. If shelooked ready to devour him, he read the message onher face, no words required. __laire._ He said her name like a treasured sound. Then, herlandlord bent low over her hand, kissing her knucklesand keeping her fingers in a tender hold.Her flesh sung a merry tune recalling how she__gripped those broad shoulders of his in a fit of passion.Was that only two nights ago? Her cheeks turned hotat the memory. Cyrus rose to his full height, holding her hand. Heplanted a kiss on her forehead. __mmm_ he hummed approvingly. __ou smellof almonds._ His lips lingered on her hairline, givingher another soft kiss. __nd vanilla, I think. Somethingyou cooked?_ He breathed in her scent, standing close yet notintimidating in the least. His own smell was cleanand starched with a hint of coffee. She reached high,touching his face like a woman with every right topartake of the feast he offered. __t__ face powder._ One finger stroked the smoothsquare of his jaw, her voice curving with amusement. __oday I join the ranks of ladies who meet for luncheon,and I can__ be sure if I__e been lured here orgoaded by one very challenging man put on earth toharass my senses._ She caressed his jaw, the grain of his skin smoothto the touch. He must__e shaved in the last hour. Hismouth quirked sideways, pressing the maroon bruisehigher up his cheek. __omething tells me you__e the perfect woman tosoothe such a man or put him in his place._ His pewterstare flicked over her exposed skin, settling on hercleavage. __s to your senses, I shall treat them withthe utmost care.

They sat in a sphere of quiet, save the sound of theirbreathing and the carriage__ creaks and sways. Outside,the coachman yelled his encouragement to the steedsmoving them forward. The whole carriage cocoonedthem in a peculiar world with the heaven__ wool-thickmists pressing against the windows. Her hand didn__ stop rubbing his neck, but sheshifted her leg, bending her knee to rest her leg onhis thigh. Her patten slipped off, dropping to the floorwith a thud. Cyrus__ head moved off the squab. __re youundressing for my benefit?_ His smile__ wicked curve played on her. From herstays to her drawers, everything was too tight, toomuch against her skin. Cyrus reached for her handworking his neck muscles. He brought it to his lips andkissed her knuckles thrice with slow adoration. __e don__ have to stop,_ she said, her voice breathyand quick. ____ sure you have more aches and pains._ Mid-kiss, he smiled against the back of her hand, hiswarm breath brushing her skin. __here are so many ways a man could go withthat._ Humor lightened his voice. __ut I__ sure youmean to provide tender care to my neck only._ She grinned at her unintended innuendo. This wasthe experience she craved__o flirt and tease, to kissand touch. Cyrus put his lips to her wrist, marking herwith hot kisses. A spangle of pleasure shot up her arm. __ou would break down the meanest soul withyour soft heart._ He set her hand on the blanket__scratchy folds, his thumb caressing her wrist. __igh praise, indeed, sir._ Tinseled sparks danced across her skin, not lettingher recover from those gentle touches, his lips to herarm. He stroked a lone finger on her hand that restedbetween them. __nd you don__ care one bit that I__ the son of aMidland swine farmer, do you?_ Cyrus asked the unexpected question, but his voiceconveyed confidence in her answer. Was her chivalrousbrawler showing a hidden spot? She peered athim, wanting a better view of his shadowed features. How was she to decipher this latest turn? The carriage bumped and rocked, and the outsidecandle lantern swung another shaft of light inside. Hisquicksilver stare pinned her. __iss Mayhew, have you ever wondered how afreehold farmer got to be in such a fine place?

A woman on the verge of moral downfall ought to be well dressed. Claire's particular transgression was gartered to her thigh, a paper hidden by yards of silk. She walked through the empty alley, confident in one comforting truth: no one dared ask a lady what her skirts concealed...

Mr. Ryland was a riddle to unfold, an attractive one at that. The lone candle flickered behind him, outlining powerful shoulders, tempting solidness she wanted to test. "But an evening of harmless flirtation isn't out of the question." His gaze fixed on her. "I'd welcome an evening free of complications." Did he just proposition her?