A Lady's Guide to Skirting Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t quite understand. He scattered her thoughts, and he made her body feel as though it might come apart. His mouth had been so soft yet so hard on hers, a strange juxtaposition. The sensation of the rough stubble of his jaw against her own face should have been disagreeable, yet instead, it sent currents of excitement across the entire surface of her skin. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her notion that a man should shave daily.
    And his touch—oh, his touch. It had made everything inside her ache. Her breasts had become heavy and sensitive, and she had wanted him to put his hands over the hardened peaks just to see if it would feel as good as she suspected it might. A steady pulse had started in her lower belly, something nameless that had urged her closer to him. The slide of his fingers over her backside had been wickedly exquisite, and it had emboldened her to kiss him back the way he had taken her.
    It was all terribly inappropriate. It was all terribly thrilling.
    And she wanted to do it again.
    The rational part of her brain reminded her that that was not a wise idea on any level. She was the sister of an earl and expected to behave as such. Which, when in society, meant avoiding anything that smacked of fun. Or excitement. She’d done her best to ensure she’d met these expectations in her effort to secure a proposal of marriage from a duke, but so far, she’d failed to achieve her goals.
    And now she found herself a prisoner on a ship where there was a dearth of dukes.
    And society.
    Even though Bart and the Post had been hired to ensure the rules of civilized society were enforced, their current location so far out in the Atlantic reduced those rules to a set of anemic suggestions. Really, what happened out here on this ship had no bearing on what would happen a year from now. By the time she returned to London, Mr. Shaw would be somewhere out in the Missouri Territory, patching people up. If she asked Mr. Shaw to kiss her again in the manner he had done yesterday—if he did kiss her again—no one would ever know.
    The thought gave her pause, even as another delicious shiver tingled through her body.
    Perhaps more experience in the skill of seduction might help her catch a duke when she returned to England. Because that was what she wanted.
    Wasn’t it?
    As much as she’d liked Mr. Shaw’s kisses, she hadn’t liked his questions. And for the moment, she was determined to ignore them. Mr. Shaw had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t even know her. Not really. Ever since her family had inherited the title, it had been an uphill battle to prove to the ton that they belonged. That she belonged. And what better way to silence all the doubters and judgers than by marrying a man who was barely a step away from royalty?
    There was a sharp rap on her door, and the Post stuck her head in without waiting for Viola to invite her to do so. Which annoyed Viola to no end. Bart and the Post shared the cabin next to hers, while Viola had her own. She supposed that was the only benefit to having a brother who owned the ship upon which one was sailing, and she treasured that sliver of privacy.
    “What are you doing?” the Post challenged.
    Viola bit back a cheeky answer and only held up Mr. Shaw’s book. “Reading,” she said.
    “Still?” Her eyes fixed on Viola and then skittered around the cabin as if looking for proof that might suggest otherwise.
    “Yes.”
    “ Hmph. ”
    “Did you want something?” Viola asked.
    “Miss Yates and I will be resting for the next hour,” the Post said. “I came to ensure that you will not leave in the interim.”
    “Oh, that is a pity. I had planned a jaunt to Covent Garden.” She regretted it the moment it was out. She needed to learn to curb her tongue. Needling Bart and the Post accomplished nothing.
    The Post’s lips thinned even further. “Lady Viola, must I remind you that such responses are unbecoming—”
    “No,” Viola said. “You need not