How To Tempt a Viscount Read Online Free PDF

terrible stretched waiting seemed only to stoke the intensity of the desire that smouldered between them. Second by second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. Creeping closer to the time they would be alone and all of that simmering, roiling passion would boil over and unleash. The skin goose-pimpled at the nape of her neck and all over her scalp at the thought of what was coming.
    Until at last the Willastons made their farewell and Ellen and Marcus were left looking at one another across the drawing room. Only the tick of the clock upon the mantel sounded. And the fast, hard beat of her heart. And now that the time had come her mouth was dry with nerves.
    ‘The hour is late and I am tired. If you will excuse me, Marcus, I shall retire to bed for the night.’ She flicked a glance at the maid carrying away a tray of cups and glasses.

    ‘Of course.’ He gave a nod and his eyes never left hers. ‘I shall retire shortly.’ And in those eyes were a desire and hunger and pledge so scalding that her legs were trembling as she crossed the room to the door.
    ‘Good night, Marcus.’
    ‘Good night, Ellen.’
    Her nerves had drawn her stomach to a small knot. She feigned normality before her maid, undressing as quickly as she could and dismissing the woman for the night, waiting until she was out of earshot before she moved. She was shaking with anticipation as she turned the key in each lock, blew out the candles and climbed beneath the covers. And waited.
    If she had found the waiting throughout dinner intense it was nothing compared to that now. The seconds had never seemed so long. She lay there in the darkness with the smell of candle smoke filling her nose and the frenzy of her heart thudding in her chest. She lay there and heard the tread of Marcus’s footsteps passing her door in the passageway outside. Waiting as each second slipped leisurely by. Lying on her back, her hands balled to fists, her fingers curling so tight that she could feel her fingernails cutting into her palms. Afraid that he would not come. Afraid that despite everything he would change his mind. She could hear the murmur of voices and the rustle of clothing and the soft sliding of drawers and opening of wardrobes filter through the wall and knew that Marcus was undressing. Preparing for bed. Her whole body shivered at the thought. And then the noises ceased and there was a resounding silence.
    Her lips were trembling so much she had to catch them with her teeth to make them stop. She held her breath. Everything seemed to stop. Pause. Wait.
    And then through the dark hiss of silence she heard the slow turning of the handle of the door that connected their bedchambers.
    And she knew that everything she had done, all that she had worked for, had not been in vain.
    ‘Ellen.’ His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but she heard it through the thick panelled mahogany as clear as if his lips were at her ear.
    Her heart was thudding so hard she felt sick.
    ‘Ellen,’ he said again.
    Ellen turned her back to the door and pulled the covers over her head. She had achieved what she had come here to do. She had seduced her own husband, lit a desire in him, made him want her, just as she had wanted him. All those nights she had lain waiting in vain for him to come to her. Those few times he had bedded her out of duty, when it was not her that he wanted. He wanted her now, but he would not have her. His desire would go unrequited. She heard him try the handle again and she knew she was victorious. But she felt nothing of the justification she expected, and everything of misery. Her heart was heavy. She felt chilled, a bone-aching chill that set her skin shivering and her teeth chattering.
    And in the awfulness of the moment, with all of her anger and injured pride stripped away and her soul laid bare, she realised that what she really wanted was for him to break down the door and come to her bed. She wanted to feel his arms around her body and his kiss