Cheryl Holt Read Online Free PDF Page A

would create.
    As Earl of Marbleton, Jerald was a stuffy, boorish man; his wife, righteous, vain, and self-centered. Their lives were ruled by propriety and social status, and neither of them would ever understand Abigail’s need to mingle with someone from the lower classes. If she was caught with Mr. Stevens, even in the most innocent of circumstances, there would be no excuse she could give for her behavior.
    As the notorious bastard son of the Earl of Spencer, James Stevens was the most insulting, disreputable, and inappropriate type of person Jerald and Margaret could imagine. No matter what type of man he was on the inside, for them, his birth status said all.
    But she was determined to succeed, so she’d eventually settled on renting in the out-of-the-way neighborhood where they could both come and go with relative anonymity. Indeed, she’d found herself relishing the bit of daring and deception it had taken to secure their secret hiding place, and she eagerly anticipated what would occur during their conferences, however few or many they might turn out to be.
    She had no idea how many visits would be required, but she assumed it would take at least two or three discussions to learn all. If they needed more time, they would have it. A six-month lease had been signed to retain the property,but she didn’t mind. Money was not a problem, and the insignificant expense was worth it if it helped to bring her the information she sought.
    The rendezvous at his office had been the most exciting event of her rather eventless life. It had also been the most difficult, but she thought she had pulled it off well. In spite of the fact that she had been frightened and apprehensive, she’d hidden her trepidation, appearing assured and confident.
    She’d hoped he would believe she was a mature, worldly woman who could converse about adult topics without stammering or swooning, and not what she actually was: a shielded spinster who had few clues about how men and women interacted. She was certain she’d come across as a bold person, despite her thinking that nothing could have been worse than looking him in the eye and making her strange request.
    However, as she’d learned in the past few days and hours, asking for his help had been the easy part. Keeping their planned assignation was another matter altogether. Showing up for their second rendezvous took much more temerity than the original appointment.
    Oh, what madness had ever possessed her to decide this was a good idea?
    For twenty-five years, she’d stumbled along without knowing the details of marital relations. Very likely, she could stumble along for twenty-five more.
    Just pondering what was coming caused her heart to begin pounding all over again, and she rubbed her hand across the center of her chest, attempting to ease its furious beating. The motion brought her wrist in contact with her right breast, so she quickly stopped herself. Since her meeting with Mr. Stevens the previous Monday, her breasts had become overly sensitive. They were fuller, heavier, her nipples constantly working against the lace of her chemises, pressing in an irritating way against the bodices of her dresses.
    At the strangest times, she’d find herself feeling too hotwhen there was no reason to be, and she’d be fanning her face while others were complaining about being too cool. Eventually it had dawned on her that these moments of overheating coincided with the straying of her thoughts in Mr. Stevens’s direction.
    Restless and aching, she was suffering in bodily spots she had never noticed before. Her skin felt too tight, as though she needed to molt it off. At night, she couldn’t sleep, but tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, all the while imagining what sorts of wicked subjects they would inevitably review.
    She kept picturing Mr. Stevens and how he had looked that day in his office. Heat had seared up her arm when he had kissed her hand in good-bye. The brief sensation