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Harrison Walgrave, the Earl of Levesford, let his father coerce him into marriage, but his true devotion is to his Parliamentary career—and his secret work for the Home Office. Yet now, with freedom in his grasp, he finds he cannot so easily release his wife. Seeing her stirs a hunger no other woman has reached. A distraction now, when he is a breath away from revealing a ring of traitors, could be deadly. Still, wherever his investigations lead, the thought of Olivia lingers. It might be obsession. It might be treason. But the only way to escape the temptation is to succumb…
“As I remember, you owe me a game.”
“Yes. When I was last, we had each won one game out of three, but we never finished the set.”
She flushed, recalling how he’d circled the table and caught her, kissing her, until they had both discarded their cues. Pushing her aside, he’d taken her passionately on the green of the table.
“Ah, I see you remember, as well as I, the last game we played here.” Harrison grinned. “Would you like a rematch?”
Olivia swallowed before she answered. “Of which game?”
“Perhaps we should play to decide? But we will need a wager.”
“What do you have in mind?” She chose her cue, then held it away from her for examination, caressing the end slowly.
It was Harrison’s turn to swallow before speaking. “If I win, I…” His voice tapered off as he watched her stroke the cue up, then down.
She leaned forward. “Lacking imagination, my lord?” It was her job to make him want her, to make him think only of her, because when men lost themselves in their lovers, they also lost control of their secrets. She was to distract him, even if it broke her heart.
Harrison coughed and looked away. “I think you are trying to ensure you win.”
“I certainly intend to. Because the stakes are my body if I lose.”
He regarded her suspiciously, but with undeniable interest. “And if you win?”
She set the cue against the wall and stepped close to him, the space between their bodies a mere inch, close enough she could see the pulse in his neck increase. She lifted her eyes to see his filled with desire. “I’m sure you can forfeit something equally pleasurable.”
Rachael Miles has always loved a good romance, especially one with a bit of suspense and preferably a ghost. She is also a professor of book history and nineteenth-century literature whose students frequently find themselves reading the novels of Ann Radcliffe and other gothic tales. Rachael lives in her home state of Texas with her indulgent husband, three rescued dogs, and an ancient cat.
Author Website: http://rachaelmiles.com/
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rachael_Miles1
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