Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He was so warm, and so big. He smelled like soap and clear water, and when she stole a look at him, the hair lightly furring his bared chest was visible in the dim firelight. Her fingers ached to touch him.
“There.” He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs at the ankles. “You have an animal in your bed. Sleep.”
Sleep? Impossible.
How could she sleep with such a riot of noise? Her pulse pounded. Her whole body pounded. Her heart, her eardrums, her wrists, the hollows behind her knees—and, throbbing hardest of all, the secret, intimate pulse between her legs.
Falling in lust at first sight was bad enough. This afternoon she’d tumbled into a whole river of desire, all the way up to her neck. Now Penny was drowning in a sea of sensuality. She was confused by it, even a bit panicked—but drawn to him nevertheless.
Because he knew how to swim.
And he could teach her to swim, too.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned into them.
“What?”
“The animals,” she lied. “They’ll have missed their dinner tonight. And unless Mrs. Robbins takes him out—which is unlikely—Bixby will have piddled on the carpet by the time we’re home.”
“There’s nothing to be done about it tonight. Save your strength. The otter was only one animal. We’ve still a dozen or more to get rid of. Not to mention, you have your wardrobe and social obligations to occupy you.”
She stared up at the blackened ceiling beams. “This will never work. Even if we manage to find homes for the animals—and you must admit, we’re not off to an auspicious start—I’ll never meet my aunt’s expectations when it comes to circulating in society.”
“Oh, yes, you will. I’ll make it happen. I’ve money and influence at my disposal.”
“I’ve no doubt you do. But all the money and influence in the world can’t change my nature.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your nature. Your nature is fine.”
For that sentence alone, she could have kissed him.
“I’m a wallflower,” she said. “No, I’m not even a wallflower. At a party, a wallflower stands against the wainscoting. I don’t even make it through the door.”
“Why not?” The bed creaked as he rolled onto his side. “That doesn’t make sense. Aside from the whole daughter-of-an-earl bit, you’re an amiable person. Far too amiable, in my estimation. Is it the crowds? The noise?”
“No, it’s . . .” Cringing, she turned to face him. “It’s the hedgehog.”
To that, he had no response other than a blank look. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected one.
“I was sixteen the year of my debut. I’d been dreading it for years. At finishing school, I hadn’t fit in with the other girls. I was always more comfortable with animals than people. While the rest of the pupils were painting flowers with their watercolors, I was returning fledglings to their nests. Making friends with hedgehogs. Like Freya.”
She picked at a loose thread on the quilt. “As you can imagine, the other pupils poked fun at me. Laughed at my expense. You know how girls are at that age.”
“Actually, I’m not certain I do.”
“It doesn’t matter. Eventually, I found truer friends. But when I first came to London, I felt rather alone and completely unprepared. My parents were in India, and my Aunt Caroline was—is—a formidable woman. She insisted I enter society. I didn’t want a formal debut, so we compromised, settling on an introduction at Almack’s.”
“Almack’s?” He pulled a face.
“I know, it’s horrid. Do you know they only serve lemonade and biscuits now? I hear they’re not even good. Anyhow, I was so nervous. I didn’t think I could face the ordeal on my own. So I tucked Freya into my pocket.”
“Your gown had pockets?”
“Every gown should have pockets. My Aunt Caroline always insisted, and it’s the one thing on which we agree.” She frowned in concentration. “Where was I?”
“At Almack’s for your grand social debut, eating dry biscuits and hiding a hedgehog in your pocket.”
“Yes. Well, there’s not much else to tell. My first dance was with Bernard Wendleby. He asked me out of family obligation, of course. He didn’t wish to be there any more than I did. Our steps crossed during the quadrille, and his hip collided with mine. I suppose you can see where this is going.”
He nodded slowly. “My mind is painting a picture.”
“Good,” she said brightly. “No need to describe it for you, then.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I want to hear every last detail.”
She’d feared he would say that. “Freya startled, pricking Bernard with her quills. Bernard jumped in alarm, stepping on my foot. I stumbled forward, sprawling onto the floor. And . . .”
“And . . . ?”
“And Freya fell out of my pocket. She rolled across the floor like a ball in lawn bowls. People scattered like pins.”
A low rumble started in his chest.