At Least Once More
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press, Inc. publication.
At Least Once More
by
Emma Lai
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
At Least Once More
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Emma Lai
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, September 2012
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-630-7
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
A big thanks to Rachel Leigh, Lynda Bailey and
W. Lynn Chantale for their time and comments.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Emma Lai
AND HER BOOKS
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH
“TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH is a quick regency erotica. Great setting, story, and characters!”
~Vicky, Sizzling Hot Book Reviews
“This is my first book by Emma Lai and it will not be my last. Emma is a wonderful writer and swept me away in a story that I thoroughly enjoyed.”
~Beck, Beck Book Picks
“The library scene…was blazingly hot.”
~Lexie, Poisoned Rationality
At Least Once More
Nervousness tightened Annabelle’s skin as her party neared the top of the stairs. Would her
faux pas
of the previous Season be forgotten as her new sister-in-law, Lady Minerva, promised, or would she suffer the cut direct from friend and foe alike? She’d made no secret of her
tendre
for Lord Thornton, and if her brother and Minerva hadn’t caught them before the Scottish border, she’d even now be Lady Thornton.
Relief stilled the butterflies in her belly. On the mad dash to Scotland, Lord Thornton had proven he was not the kindhearted gentleman she’d supposed. He’d run his horses into the ground over her protests. Her heart had wept for the poor beasts. When William had dragged the man outside the ramshackle inn just south of the border, she silently cheered the thrashing her brother had delivered.
Annabelle smoothed a pleat of her white silk gown. She detested the color, much preferring rich greens, but Minerva had insisted, arguing it would do no good to thumb her nose at Society’s demands for debutantes in pastels and whites when her behavior was already suspect. She wanted nothing more than to stick her tongue out at the dragons—a gesture that would no doubt immediately earn her the same small frown from Minerva that currently dipped her brow.
Suppressing a sigh, Annabelle straightened her shoulders and dropped her hand. Minerva was right. The nervous habit wouldn’t serve her cause either. Her sister-in-law was an exacting English lady but loved horses as much as she, and somehow put a smile on William’s face, and kept peace between the two siblings. Annabelle resolved to behave this Season and trust Minerva to guide her away from men who weren’t whom they claimed to be. She only hoped her wayward urges didn’t lead her astray once again.
“Ah, Miss Abbott, it’s so good to see you’ve recovered from your illness,” Lady Markham said as Annabelle dipped into a curtsy befitting the lady’s rank of countess.
Inside, Annabelle cringed, but her hostess’ smile appeared genuine and the words held no malice. “Thank you, my lady. Lady Minerva made the best of nurses.” They had attributed her unexpected departure at the end of last Season to an illness. She doubted anyone believed the flimsy excuse. While William had ensured Lord Thornton returned to town, unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to leave the man’s face unmarred, and Thornton was not a known visitor of Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon.
“Well, Miss Abbott, I hope you save a dance for me.” Lord Markham dropped a kiss above her gloved hand as she rose from her curtsy.
“Of…of course, my lord.” The man’s sinful good looks never failed to tie her tongue. Unlike most men, he was of a height equal to her and boasted broad shoulders and a chest that tapered to a trim waist. And, while Annabelle knew she was never to look at a man’s inexpressibles, the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his trousers weakened her knees.
She sighed. Too bad all the tallest and most handsome of men in the
ton
were already married. She had the good sense to skirt the advances of any who tried to tempt her—her body might betray her desires, but her mind reminded her she needed a ring on her finger before discovering the hidden secrets of marriage.
A nudge from behind reminded Annabelle she had yet to withdraw her hand from Lord Markham’s hold. Never one to easily embarrass, she smiled and said, “I look forward to our dance, my lord.”
A small smile curved his lips. “As do I, Miss Abbott.”
Annabelle stepped aside even as the deep tones of the lord’s voice shimmered inside her. She shot a glance at Lady Markham to see what she thought of her husband’s flirtation, but the woman appeared only mildly amused. Of course, the gorgeous lady wouldn’t spend a moment worrying about a tall, gangly American girl such as Annabelle.
The bemused smile adorning the countess’ countenance as she glanced at her husband hinted at shared delights with his lordship. This was just the type of thing that, when combined with the titters of newly married ladies gossiping amongst themselves, the noises that came from William and Minerva when behind closed doors, and, perhaps most importantly, the way the virtue of every miss was guarded by dragon-eyed chaperones, all indicated pleasure between the sexes awaited.
However, good sense notwithstanding, the heat that coursed through her blood when Markham and his ilk slanted a glance her way had her wondering just how long she’d remain an innocent if William weren’t around to play diligent watchdog. Though not with any of the weak, mealy-mouthed men similar to the two she’d stupidly eloped with. Surely she could do better. It was time to find a not-so-gentle gentleman, one who didn’t treat her like a skittish mare.
Had she spent too much time around horses, so often did she think in terms of the animals? Yet the beasts offered another hint that there were hidden delights to be experienced between the sexes. The pleasurable whinnies of a mare being mounted belied the argument females simply have to endure the male’s attention. No, it seemed more of a give-and-take situation between a mare and her stallion. The evidence left Annabelle flushed of face and strangely heavy and achy in forbidden places, for what pleasure God granted beasts surely He must also have gifted to man.
Minerva hooked her arm through Annabelle’s. “Come, my dear. Let us descend and mingle.”
Annabelle smiled. “Yes. Let’s.”
Let’s begin the hunt for the as-yet-unknown man who will open the door into a secret worl—
“You’d do well not to cast calf-eyes in Lord Markham’s direction, Belle,” William said as they left the hearing of their hosts.
Annabelle bristled at the hint of censure in her brother’s voice, especially when coupled with the detested nickname. Her ire had nothing to do with being caught in the midst of plotting her own downfall from virtue.
She stopped, but Minerva’s hand reminded Annabelle of her intentions to be more heedful and halted the viperous words poised on her tongue’s tip. After taking a deep breath, she attempted a light laugh, then said, “Brother mine, you worry over much. I promised Minerva I would behave, and I shall.” At least to the point of not running off with an ineligible
parti
. Excitement exceeding what she felt on a good gallop across the countryside tingled along her spine.
Minerva patted her arm. “There, there, my dear. William knows better than anyone that Lord Markham’s interests are fixed solely on his wife.”
Annabelle turned her head and caught an intimate, heated look shared between her brother and new sister. What secret of Lord Markham’s did they own? Did it explain the unfashionable amount of time the two spent closeted behind closed doors?
Yet more proof that what occurred between a man and woman was pleasurable. Determination to find the answers straightened her shoulders even as a shaft of longing pierced her soul. Was it so wrong to want a man to possess her?
She worried her lower lip. All of William’s objections to former suitors revolved around their desiring her fortune over her person. Would he object if she found someone—unmarried, of course—who desired her body over her wealth?
Given the haste with which he had entered into his own marriage, she doubted it. Without question, she’d put too much store in men’s looks and flowery words. The next man who caught her fancy would have to prove his attraction—
A braying noise crashed into her thoughts. She glanced at a group of young ladies. One and all had their gazes fixed on her, and one by one, they all presented their backs. The cut direct. Annabelle tilted her chin higher. She didn’t give a farthing what those snobby, English misses thought of her. They could try and humiliate her all they wanted, but a snub only worked if the target cared.
A pasty-faced gentleman with deplorable taste in waistcoats blocked her view of the group. “Lady Minerva, a pleasure to see you again. Might I beg an introduction to your lovely companion?”
A small frown flitted across Minerva’s features before she smoothed the expression into a polite, if not welcoming, mien. “Mr. Esters, this is my husband, Mr. William Abbott, and his sister, Miss Abbott.”
Annabelle took her cue from Minerva and barely offered her fingers before retrieving the hand. When the man would have retained it longer, the clearing of her brother’s throat deterred the action. For once, Annabelle was glad to have William behind her.
“Excuse us, Mr. Esters, but I see an acquaintance I would like to introduce to my wife and sister.” William offered an arm to each of them and escorted them away, muttering, “Importuning fortune hunters.”
Annabelle filed away the information, though she doubted she needed it. Mr. Esters barely came to her chin. She snickered. He’d either get a crook in his neck looking up at her or his words would be lost in her bosom.
He definitely did not stir her passions in any way, so it didn’t matter whether he could prove he found her person more appealing than her fortune. Tall, skinny, and of modest endowment with a complexion browned from too much time in the sun with her horses, she knew she was no diamond of the first water.
Her steps slowed until she was half a pace behind William and Minerva. Would any man find her body desirable? A frown teased her brow, and she countered it with a small, if not genuine, smile. She didn’t want people thinking she worried over her welcome.
“Grey, how have you been?” William’s voice broke into her morose reflection. She studied his back and patiently waited for them to either move on or him to perform an introduction to whomever he spoke.
Really, she was getting tired of herself. If she discovered this tendency toward self-deprecating thought in any of her friends, she’d be the first to grab them by the shoulders and shake them. Not that she had many friends, unless one counted stable hands and horses. Oh, and maybe Minerva? Perhaps she should share her new plan with her sister-in-law
“Abbott, so good to see you here tonight. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find any acquaintance in this crush.”
The musical lilt, different from the usual English accent or Scottish brogue, compelled Annabelle to shuffle to the side until her gaze encompassed William clasping hands and shoulders with a man, whose impossibly large size belied the soft baritone of his voice—though thankfully not in an unpleasant way. She’d hazard her pin money that if he got angry that voice would deepen into a loud, booming bass. What would it take to make him angry? Would those green eyes darken to the deepest emerald, or would they turn as black as his hair, as black as his stark evening dress?
A shiver chased along her skin. Sometimes she worried about her odd thoughts and reactions to implied violence. Maybe her feelings weren’t all that unusual. She slanted a glance at her sister-in-law. She doubted the English lady had ever harbored a violent thought, much less been titillated by one.
“Well, if you wouldn’t hide yourself away in the Welsh countryside then you’d know more people.” William stepped away and hugged Minerva to his side. “Let me expand your acquaintance by two. Allow me to introduce my wife, Minerva. Lady Minerva Abbott, this is His Grace, the Duke of Powis.”