Convenient Wife, Pleasured Lady. Carole Mortimer

suddenly became aware of exactly where, and on whom, she had last smelled the woman’s perfume that now clung so insidiously to the earl’s elegant jacket.

      “No!” Alice regained her dignity with effort as she put her hands firmly against the earl’s chest and held herself away from his seduction. “I am firm in my resolve, sir. I refuse—I will not become your wife, in the fullest sense of the word, until you have wooed and won me.”

      Daniel’s eyes widened incredulously as his arms dropped from about her and he took a step backward. “‘Wooed and won’ you…?”

      “Exactly, my lord.” Alice gave a measured inclination of her head, grateful that the length of her gown hid the slight trembling of her lower limbs. “If you wish for me to fully become your wife, the mother of your heir, then first I will need to be convinced that your emotions are as engaged as other parts of your body.” A delicate blush colored her cheeks in acknowledgment of her awareness of the earl’s arousal.

      She might well blush, Daniel scowled darkly. How dare this chit come here and ask—no, demand!—that he court her like some lovesick youth? “That will only happen when hell freezes over!” he bit out harshly. Having observed during his childhood and beyond the deep and abiding love his mother felt for his father, as opposed to his father’s complete indifference to her, he knew that love for one’s spouse was as destructive as it was painful.