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Excerpt My Lady Rake

Verity blinked, studying the Earl of St. Ervan, lost. "What are you up to?" Her plan to free herself of Miles Uppingham's company had taken quite a turn.

"I thought I was quite plain in my intent. I wish to love you."

Her gown was suddenly too warm, and Verity wished she had her fan. "And I suggested you enquire elsewhere." Those had to be the most difficult words she'd ever spoken. Had she gone mad? She should throw herself onto his desk and let him discover what utterings she made when a man performed well. Surely, he had enough experience to perform well. While she enjoyed teaching her lovers new ways to please a woman, St. Ervan might have a few surprises for her.

Some of the humor left his smile, but he hid his feelings well if she'd insulted him. "No, Verity. Only you will do."

They were at a stalemate, and she hadn't a clue what to do or say next. He clearly wasn't accepting her refusal, but he wasn't forcing her, either. She didn't feel threatened. They were close enough to the game room that either of the dukes would come to her rescue if she called out.

But she didn't feel the need to call out. She wasn't sure what she felt, honestly. Her breasts still tingled at the thought of his lips on them. Warmth still pooled lower, and of all foolish notions she could have, she was tempted to say yes. If nothing else, doing so would tell Miles she meant what she'd said about there being nothing more between them.

She'd never sleep with any man for that reason, especially not one she respected like St. Ervan. He'd mentioned a wager though…

"You realize my saying we had a wager was merely an excuse to speak to you," she said, hoping to lead to less stimulating conversation. "There's nothing between us."

"Ah, but there will be."

Verity had no words. The earl must be playing some sort of game, and while she was familiar with most games of chance, she had so little experience when it came to games of the heart. She'd only ever loved one man. Before she and Levi married, she'd only kissed one other man, and that was a brief, stolen moment at a masquerade. "You confuse me. Do you believe we're going to lay together?"

St. Ervan's beautiful lips twitched, and an eyebrow lifted briefly. "Not until our wedding."

A rude laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. "Our what? Dear man, don't waste your time on me. I have no intentions to ever marry again."

"Was your first marriage so awful?" he asked, surprising her.

Verity sighed as her sweet husband Levi's face came to mind. "It was the opposite. Every moment was bliss. I could never love again the way I did Mr. Stanhope, and I have no need for a man to support me."

"What about children?"

The word brought pain, but she quickly tamped it down. "I couldn't raise children with a man I don't love."

He watched her silently, studying her, although in the shadows of the candlelight there couldn't be much he saw. She told herself that but felt as if he saw straight to her soul. "You're so young to miss out on the richness life has to offer."

"I'm enjoying exactly what I wish to. Not one man has complained when we have an assignation. There's nothing marriage can give me that I don't already have." Her brow furled and she leaned forward a bit as she continued. "As a man, you should understand what I say. You're free to take a mistress or entertain yourself with as many women as you wish. Of course, you'll need a wife and an heir at some point, but there are any number of marriageable misses who'd be a biddable bride and look the other way when you tire of her. You have nothing to offer me that I can't find elsewhere."

St. Ervan was silent again, giving no sign of his feelings to her refusal. What had she refused? There was no wager, merely a proposition for a moment's pleasure. He hadn't proposed marriage. The very use of the word wager meant he knew the outcome would be in question.

Suddenly the notion he might have been proposing made her squirm. Why, they were practically strangers, barely having spoken more than polite phrases in passing when her husband was alive. St. Ervan had come to her house with Abingdon and Dainsfield after Levi's burial, along with so many other friends and acquaintances, but nothing more until she'd received his invitation to join the others this week at his house.

Even when she'd arrived here at his home earlier in the week, St. Ervan hadn't paid her any special attention. He had no interest in her.

He sat watching her thoughts tumble through her mind. Did he expect her to suddenly weep tears of joy that she'd be a widow no more? Was she to thank him for ending her dissolute ways?

"As I said, my lord, you're wasting your time. I will not marry you, nor any other man." There, that should end the conversation once and for all.

"We shall see," he said.

"What must I do to convince you of the truth?" she asked.

"No, it is I who must convince you you won't be truly happy until we are married. But that won't happen in one night. Come, let's return to the party." He rose, blew out the candle and offered his arm in the waning moonlight streaming through the window.

Deep inside her, Verity realized this matter wouldn't be settled easily, and she wasn't sure if that filled her with excitement or dread. Taking his arm, she followed him toward whatever the future would bring.

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