Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (60 page)

Scott

201

'Capable, am I?' Brandon felt himself growing warm. She smelled of rosewater and lavender as she fiddled with his cravat.

The game was going to take a decidedly different
turn
within moments. 'Is that why you

me that first night?' He

dipped his head and feathered a

along the column of her

neck.

'I

you because I thought it would be a successful distraction and assist my escape.'

'Why did you think that would work?' Brandon asked, desire mounting in his voice.

'I could tell right away that you were a man used to having his commands obeyed.' Nora traced his jaw with a finger. 'Men who command sometimes like to be commanded.'

'Is that why you tied me to the bed after the card party?' He was completely hard now. He was sure she could feel the progress his member was making beneath her buttocks.

Nora grinned mischievously. 'I tied you to the bed because you deserved it for torturing "Eleanor" on Mrs Dalloway's balcony. That's too many questions for you. We're not very good at following the mles.' She was the absolute coquette. She squirmed strategically on his lap. 'This is harder than I thought.'

Brandon didn't have to ask what she was to by

She breathed against his neck. 'It's your
turn
to pick and you choose consequence.'

'Do I?' Brandon asked in hoarse anticipation. 'I forgot, men like me want to be commanded.'

'There are no men like you.' Her hands were in his hair, her mouth at his ear,

provocatively on his ear lobe. 'Take

me upstairs.'

'Your command is my very wish.' Brandon rose with Nora in his arms and headed for the door.

'If your

in bed matches your wit, this should prove to be very pleasurable,' Nora rejoined, tossing back her head, enjoying the moment thoroughly.

Pickpocket Countess

'One can only hope,' Brandon parried.

Nora adeptly leaned back in his arms and swept up the small silver pitcher of melted hot fudge used for dipping the strawberries they'd eaten for dessert. 'When one cannot hope, there's always chocolate.'

A surge of unadulterated glee ran through him. Never had foreplay been this stimulating. This was an utter romp and had him

forward to a long delightful night.

A sharp knock on the door of his chambers woke Brandon late the next morning. He was slow to wake, wanting to ignore the knock and focus instead on the warm feminine form curled against him, her buttocks sensuously nestled against his groin.

The smells of the night before, mixed with the subtle aroma of chocolate, brought a smile to his face. He wanted the world to retreat so that nothing existed except him, Nora and this room.

But Harper, persistent valet that he was, wouldn't let it. The knock sounded again.

Brandon rose with a groan and covered Nora with a sheet for the sake of decency. For Harper's sake, Brandon reached for a robe and belted it, although it would serve Harper right if he answered the door naked. Harper found unnecessary nakedness offensive in the extreme, the prude.

Brandon called out, 'Enter.'

'Sorry to disturb you, my lord.' Harper bustled around the sitting room, picking up hastily discarded garments and shaking them out.

Brandon smirked. The busybody wasn't sorry in the least.

'I have news that needs your immediate attention,' Harper said, smoothing out Brandon's shirt from the night before and over the missing buttons.

Brandon stiffened in expectancy.

'There was a small fire at one of the tenant's cottages last night and they need you to come inspect the roof.'

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203

The tension seeped from Brandon's body. He had hoped the news might be from Jack. 'I will go at once. Lay out my riding clothes. I'll have coffee and toast downstairs. Tell the groom to saddle my bay.'

It was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd planned to spend the grey winter morning in bed with Nora, but duty called.

Harper finished dressing him quickly and Brandon penned a short note for Nora, who still slumbered on in the bed. The afternoon was just as good. He could spend the morning up inventive things to do with scones and jam-yes, definitely jam.

The door shut and Nora rolled over. She'd feigned sleep. It would have been too tempting to persuade Brandon to come back to bed and ruin her opportunity. In spite of the pleasure she found in their time together, the problem of getting more funds to Mary

and the others still encroached. She wouldn't rest easily until she had fulfilled her obligations there. She had her plunder. She simply had to get into Manchester and pawn it.

It was clear Brandon was not going to let her out of his sight, so she had waited for a chance to sneak away. He would be gone until mid-afternoon. That would give her plenty of time to go back to the Grange, don her 'Eleanor' disguise, drive into Manchester and take care of her business. With any luck, she'd even beat him home. If not, she would leave a note saying she'd gone out to pay calls or that she'd gone to run a few errands in the village.

She regretted the deception, but if Brandon knew, he would never let her go. He might offer to give her the money, but that wouldn't be the same. This was her cause and she had to see it through. Her mind made up, Nora put her plan in motion.

Brandon had been

about scones and a pot of jam

all day. He entered the front hall and stripped off his riding

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Pickpocket Countess

gloves, handing them to a waiting footman. The butler bustled out to meet him.

'Good afternoon, my lord. I am glad to see you.

Bradley

is waiting for you in the drawing room.' He delivered his message with a haughty roll of his eyes, suggesting he found Mrs Bradley above herself to importune the Earl with a visit.

'She's waiting for me?' Brandon asked, slightly perplexed.

In all the years he had been in residence here, Mrs Bradley had never called on him alone. She usually called with her husband or alone only if one of his sisters were visiting. 'Surely you mean she calls on my betrothed.'

The butler cleared his throat. Miss Nora is not at home. She left you a note.' The butler extended the folded white sheet in-scribed with Nora's neat hand.