Chapter 1
Abingdon Park, Christmas Eve, 1811
Charlotte stared in wide-eyed horror as Nathaniel White rounded the corner at the far end of the otherwise empty hallway. Breathless at the mere thought of coming face to face with the notorious rake, she did what any other reasonable eighteen-year-old daughter of an earl would do.
She sought refuge in the nearby window dressings.
Peering out from her hiding place, she held her breath as the Earl of Abingdon’s nephew strutted past. She did not make a sound. But still, Nathaniel White turned as if he sensed her presence in the empty corridor.
Why in Heaven’s name would he choose this particular moment to notice her? She’d spent the past hour in his uncle’s parlor watching him charm the other guests, and not once had he so much as glanced in her direction. For all he knew, she could be someone’s servant, though her elaborate pink gown said otherwise.
“I assure you, there is no need to hide in the curtains,” he said, his tone playful.
Charlotte clasped the fabric to her chin. “I dropped an earring, and I believe it rolled over here by the window.”
He raised an eyebrow. His smile grew as he studied her, or more specifically her ears. “Lost them both did you?”
“Yes,” she muttered. Drat! Why hadn’t she considered that earrings came in pairs?
“Shall I help you look? Finding a pair of fallen . . . I beg your pardon, what kind of earrings did you say they were?”
“Pearls.”
“Indeed. Locating two pearl eardrops in this dim hall may require some assistance.”
Her back pressed against the windowpane as he strode towards her rather paltry refuge. They both knew she had not lost a single piece of jewelry. There was no place left for her to escape unless she wished to leap out the window. How would she explain a broken glass pane to her hostess?
“I don’t bite.” He gently pulled the curtains from her clenched fists. His tone was reminiscent of a purring cat, or given his imposing size, perhaps a lion. Standing a full head height above her, with broad shoulders and muscular limbs, the man reminded her of the statues in her schoolbooks.
Of course, the statues wore far less clothing—usually nothing more than a well-placed leaf—which led her to wonder how Nathaniel White would look devoid of his formal attire.
In the recesses of her mind, she knew she should feel ashamed. But instead, a foreign sensation flowed through her body. Her breasts tingled and her lower belly pulsed with excitement and nerves as if she’d swallowed a pair of butterflies. It must be desire, wanton yearning like that she had read about in the scandalous novels she’d borrowed from her maid’s chamber. Desire—there could be no other word for the feeling that begged her arms to reach out, grab him by the cravat, and haul him behind the curtains.
“Oh my,” Charlotte whispered. She knew that well-bred young ladies should not imagine gentlemen in the buff, even if they happened to find themselves alone with a man ostensibly searching for fallen pearls. Even if the gentleman promised not to bite.
Nathaniel White’s dark eyes danced with merriment and a hint of mischief. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No,” she snapped. What more could she possibly say? That she’d been too busy wondering how he would look when separated from his clothes to worry about whether he would sink his teeth into her?
“Perhaps I should show you.” He closed the gap between their bodies with a single step. Her knees turned to pudding as he loomed over her. Then he lowered his head and ever so slowly brushed his practiced lips across her cheek.
Her cheek!
As far as first kisses went, it was hardly the perfect moment a young lady dreamed of. In fact, Charlotte wondered if it could be considered a kiss at all. And she would have voiced some objection had she been able to speak.
Tilting her chin up, Charlotte waited, her eyes wide with anticipation, for him to continue his seduction. He would try to kiss her again, wouldn’t he? A man with a reputation like his never stopped at one kiss, at least not in the books she’d read.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could sense the warmth of his body and smell his enticing scent. It was an entirely foreign, earthy smell, one that filled her with excitement and the knowledge that she was about to kiss a handsome man on the lips.
He drew back a step. “My dear girl, your eyes could rob a man of his very soul.”
Charlotte’s self-image cracked. No one had ever complimented her features—not her eyes, nor her thick, wavy, brown mane. No one had ever seen beyond her illness.
But now she possessed eyes that, in the words of a renowned seducer, could steal a man’s soul.
“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte was not fully convinced that robbing a man of anything could be considered a compliment. It sounded downright sinful. Regardless, she wanted Nathaniel White to kiss her again—this time on the lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlotte puckered her lips and waited.
And then she felt it. The familiar numbness crept up her limbs, moving like an escaped demon up her arms and legs.
No! Not now! Not in front of him.
Her body gave way, the first spasms hitting her like a wave crashing against rocks. She was powerless to stop it.
Her world went black.
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