For the Earl’s Taking –
PROLOGUEHer eyes snapped open in the dark of the night. A step in the wooden stair. Him. Her heart skipped a beatand went into overdrive. It was not fear. It was not apprehension. Her blood raced in her veins. Anotherstep and her breasts peaked. He was coming, as he did almost every night. As she waited every singlenight. The steps reached the top. She gulped oxygen into her anxious lungs. The door opened and firemelted in her centre. As it always happened since he started coming, those months ago. He brought her apiece of paradise. A taste of sweetness. A relief after each hard working day.As the door came ajar a candlelight lit her wide open dark brown eyes. She moistened her lips and forgotthem half apart. All she could do was lie there, looking. Paralyzed with overwhelming sensation. Fierceexpectation. Like every night. For those months.
But tonight…tonight it’d be…
“Sarah…” His grave silken voice covered the darkness as a soft blanket. His tall frame cut against the door
step of her cramp se
rvant lodging. “Sarah, I need you.”
His manly grave murmur extracted another flow of melting desire through her middle. She saw the candlemove to the small shelf beside the door, as it closed soundlessly. He neared her.
“Please, let me…” His voice sounde
d like honey in her ears. In the dimness of her tiny bedroom she saw hishands go to his fine evening trousers.
“Yes, my lord.” She breathed out so softly that it felt more like a caress in Hugh’s ears. His desire went to
mindless level.What the hell was he asking her about? He was her boss, the Earl of Hawkmore and she was his downstairsmaid. No nobleman asked a mere servant anything. They commanded. They demanded. They seized.Anything. Everything. They took whatever they wished. They were entitled to. They were titled, period.He jerked his trousers urgently open, revealing his hard bulky member. A member that would comelooking for her, only her. Not his designed wife, never the countess. His cool, highly born, arranged-marriage wife. There was something about the woman lying on that cot. Something that pulled him to her.That kept her in his thoughts, in his blood.
Kept him on fire. And he couldn’t help coming up stairs
, climbingit for his desire, climbing it for his release. For his damnation, his salvation.He bent one knee on the hard cot mattress as he unbuttoned his shirt. She was looking at him. Hunger inher eyes, parted lips. And his blood ran in his veins like lava. He wanted to set a house for her. He wantedto settle her as his mistress. He would do that. To hell with his peers
ons! He couldn’t live like this
He couldn’t live with the trail of hot rush that she left behind every time she passed by him on
her chores. It was heaven and it was hell to have her around all day. He felt like dragging her to hischambers every single time his eyes met hers.
Sarah saw him pull the rough coverlet from her bonny body. She wasn’t lush with curves. Her w
ornchemise hid her plum-like breasts. They peaked firmly under his stare. She gazed him, imprinting him in hermemory, as always. But tonight was the last of it. The last for her. The last ever. Sadness bubbled inside