Seducing the Viscount Read Online Free PDF Page B

waiting all these years for Ian’s touch, had been stirred to life.
    Yes. This was what the poets spoke of. This was the magic that made perfectly intelligent women toss aside all sense for passion.
    Instinctively she arched closer to the hard muscles of his body. He was so warm, so strong, so . . . male.
    His fingers shifted to cup the back of her neck, keeping her head in place as he deepened his kiss. Mercy’s head spun with pleasure, vibrantly aware of the stirring hardness of his groin as it pressed against her lower stomach.
    It was the feel of his tongue parting her lips that at last shocked her back to reality. A reality that included the fact they were standing in the formal drawing room with the threat of Lord Norrington or Ella walking in at any moment.
    Lifting her hands, she pressed against the broad width of his chest.
    â€œMr. Breckford.”
    His head shifted so that he could boldly nuzzle the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat.
    â€œMy name is Ian.”
    She swallowed a low groan before giving his chest another push. As much as she was enjoying (and she was enjoying) his delicious kisses, she was not so lost to reason as to risk being caught in such a compromising position.
    Not only would her reputation be in tatters, but she might very well be sent back to her parents. And that she could not bear.
    Not yet, at least.
    â€œI did not give you leave to kiss me,” she chided, well aware that her words were a tad ridiculous when her lips must be swollen and her cheeks flushed with lingering pleasure.
    He chuckled softly. “I wished you to know that I can be as unpredictable as you.”
    Mercy lifted her brows. His words were even more ridiculous than hers.
    â€œActually, I would say that having you kiss me was very predictable.”
    His gaze slowly roamed down her body. “Because you are so irresistible?”
    â€œBecause, Ian Breckford, you are a rake, and for the moment, you are trapped in the country with only me to try to seduce.”
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    For Ian, the dinner that followed was a mixture of fury and fascination.
    Fury that his cold jackass of a father had not bothered even to acknowledge his presence as he had taken his seat at the impossibly long dinner table, and fascination with the tiny wood sprite seated across from him.
    The fury he expected. When had there been an occasion that Lord Norrington had condescended to actually pretend he was anything but indifferent to his only child?
    Against his will, Ian’s gaze turned toward the man seated at the head of the table.
    With his black hair perfectly crimped and styled to frame his thin face, Lord Norrington looked far younger than his fifty years. His body was lean beneath the tailored gray coat and black waistcoat while his face remained unlined. He could easily have passed for a gentleman half his age if it were not for the jaded glitter in his dark brown eyes. Those eyes revealed a man who had lived a life of disillusionment.
    Which was ridiculous considering he had been handed every luxury in the world on a silver platter.
    The fascination, however, was rather unexpected.
    Readily he switched his attention toward the lovely Mercy Simpson.
    He was accustomed to lusting after any pretty woman who entered a room. He was a man, for God’s sake. And the fact that their kiss had shattered his staunch defenses to the point he had ached to back her against the wall and take her right there in the formal dining room was obviously because she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.
    His fascination had to be the knowledge that his entire body hummed with anticipation each time she opened those pretty lips that caught him off guard. There was something about that low, beguiling voice and the realization that he had no notion what words might come out of her mouth that held him almost spellbound.
    She was completely unique.
    A woman like no other.
    He found his gaze lingering throughout