Ralston would possess two copies. Could the letter from the box be tucked inside? He picked up the volume and leafed through the pages, but unfortunately his hope was in vain. He was about to close the book when a phrase caught his attention and he frowned.
Turning so he could better capture the light streaming through the window, he read:
Simon’s brows shot upward. Clearly he’d been mistaken to assume that a ladies’ guide would merely contain information about fashion and etiquette.
“No wonder there was a scandal,” he murmured.
An image flashed through his mind…of his hands being tied with a silken cord to a bedpost. He couldn’t see his captor’s face, but her voice was ripe with sensual promise when she whispered, “You’re going to give me everything I want.”
He blinked and the image evaporated, leaving him feeling slightly stunned and-he winced and shifted-more than slightly aroused. Unable to stop himself, he flipped to a different page and read:
So much for what he’d expected.
Another image materialized in his mind, this one of the same woman who’d tied his hands, her face still blurry and indistinguishable, shrugging her negligee from her shoulders. The satin puddled at her feet, leaving her bare to his avid gaze. Coral nipples erect, the pale curls between her legs glistening, she stepped from the pool of material and walked slowly toward him with a sinful sway of her hips. “Where have you, been?” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you…”
Simon shook his head to dispel the sensuous image. Bloody hell, no wonder this book had caused such an uproar. He’d never read anything like it. Of course, he wasn’t in the habit of reading ladies’ guides. At least, he hadn’t been, until now. Even as his mind ordered him to put down the damn book and resume his search, he found himself again turning the page. Just as he peered at the words he heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening then closing.
Bloody damn hell.
A feminine voice softly crooned, “Hello, sweet Sophia. Did you miss me?” Sweet Sophia answered with a loud meow. “I missed you, too. We’ll play tomorrow. I’m tired and off to bed.”
Double bloody damn hell.
2
FURIOUS that he’d allowed himself to be so uncharacteristically distracted, Simon quickly replaced the book then glanced around the room. The only two exit possibilities were the door-not a viable option, or one of the two windows, offering at least a thirty-foot drop to the ground-not a healthy option. Besides the potentially fatal fall, he’d have to leave the window open and she’d know someone had been in her chamber. Of course, unless he moved his arse-immediately-she was going to discover that anyway.
Bloody aggravating woman. Why couldn’t she have a nice balcony off her bedchamber? And have stayed away for several more hours?
Ignoring the screen and the wardrobe-both of which she’d undoubtedly use in the course of readying herself for bed, he moved swiftly toward the statue in the corner. He’d no sooner secreted himself in the deep shadows behind the marble woman than the bedchamber door opened.
Inwardly cursing the rotten luck that had brought Mrs. Ralston home so early, he remained still and prayed that she’d get into bed quickly and fall asleep immediately. From his hiding place, he watched her close the door behind her then move to the bedside table where she lit the oil lamp. Surrounded by a soft golden glow, she pushed back the hood on the dark cape she wore.
Simon blinked in surprise. Mrs. Ralston was much younger than he’d imagined. Based on the meager information he’d been able to gather in the short time he’d had to investigate, he’d discovered she’d retired from the life of being a mistress a year ago when Ridgemoor had ended their arrangement. That news had led Simon to assume she’d aged and lost her beauty. Between that and the fact that the earl was over fifty and she’d been his mistress for a decade, he’d envisioned a woman in her forties, at the least. But this woman didn’t appear much older than thirty, if she was that.
And she certainly hadn’t lost her looks. The woman standing before him in the halo of golden lamplight was nothing short of stunning. The combination of high cheekbones and full lips lent her an exotic yet delicate beauty. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but given her porcelain skin and upswept honey-blond hair, he’d wager blue. He found himself wondering if they’d more resemble a cloudless summer sky or a stormy sea. Or perhaps a shard of ice.
All thoughts of ice vanished in the next instant when she unfastened her cloak. The garment slid from her shoulders to reveal that she wore only a chemise. A
Simon’s breath halted, and for several seconds he completely forget where he was. Who she was. And how much was at stake. His conscience-an inner voice he’d bludgeoned into silence long ago-unexpectedly coughed to life and informed him that honor and decency demanded he avert his gaze. He immediately consigned his conscience back to the depths from where it had crawled and kept his eyeballs steadfastly trained on the vision before him. After all, she was a person of suspicion. For reasons he’d yet to discover, she’d taken what he’d come to steal before he could rob her of it-the letter that would save his life. It was imperative he learn all he could about her.
And God knows he was learning plenty, given the way that wet material clung to her. His gaze roamed slowly downward, lingering over her firm, full breasts topped with erect nipples. The curve of her waist flared to generous hips then tapered to shapely thighs. The curls between her legs were the same golden honey shade as her hair.
Clearly Mrs. Ralston had indulged in a dip in the hot springs. It was well documented that taking the waters was good for the body, and she absolutely was testament to that.
She moistened her lips and his gaze was drawn to her mouth. He squinted through the shadows. Were her lips naturally so plush or were they kiss-swollen? Had someone joined her at the hot springs? Did Mrs. Ralston have a lover? Perhaps the artist from the neighboring cottage? Or an accomplice who’d helped her murder Ridgemoor? Surely a woman who looked like her wouldn’t lack for male companionship. An unexpected mental image flickered through his mind…Mrs. Ralston, standing in the gently bubbling water…and himself, joining her-
“Meow.”
The sound cut off Simon’s unsettling fantasy and his gaze jerked downward. Sophia slid into the shadows and once again twined herself around his boots. Bloody hell. Clearly the cat possessed the same unfortunate habit as her owner-turning up in places she wasn’t wanted. And wasn’t that just like a female? Give one the smallest amount of attention then they kept pestering you for more.
He looked up and stifled a groan. With her cloak folded over her arm, Mrs. Ralston moved toward him. His breath halted-partly due to the great risk of discovery and partly because the sight of her rendered his lungs incapable of functioning. He’d seen many alluring sights in his life, but he’d be hard-pressed to name any that could compare to the sight of a wet, nearly naked Genevieve Ralston.
And speaking of hard…his gaze flicked down to the erection straining against his snug breeches. How bloody delightful. It was humiliating enough that he might very well be discovered. To be found in such a condition was completely unacceptable. He tried to will away his arousal, but with his gaze locked on her luscious form once again, he utterly failed. By God, Ridgemoor must have been jaded indeed to have tired of this woman. Had she sought revenge by murdering him?
Or perhaps he hadn’t tired of her as rumors had suggested-perhaps she’d betrayed him and that had
