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A SINNER’S KISS
“Why is it, Miss Ellingham, that nearly every time I see you out of doors, you are with a different gentleman? Locked in an embrace.”
“You exaggerate, my lord.”
“Not really. First it was Pengrove, then Rosen, and now Roddington. Is this some sort of contest? Do you hope to kiss every unwed man in London this Season?”
“Do not presume to judge me, my lord,” she said hotly. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know that you have a fondness for kissing.”
“Who I kiss and where I kiss them is none of your concern.”
“What if I decided that it should be?”
“Ha!” She tossed her head, revealing the slender column of her throat. Lord, what he wouldn’t do for the right to nibble at that delicate nape.
Carter reached out and placed his palm beneath her chin, bringing her face around so their eyes met. Then he slowly, gently brushed his thumb across her lips. As if reading his thoughts, she suddenly moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. They glistened in the moonlight, so soft, so plump, so tempting.
“Ah, to hell with it,” Carter muttered as he reached for her…
Books by Adrienne Basso
HIS WICKED EMBRACE
HIS NOBLE PROMISE
TO WED A VISCOUNT
TO PROTECT AN HEIRESS
TO TEMPT A ROGUE
THE WEDDING DECEPTION
THE CHRISTMAS HEIRESS
HIGHLAND VAMPIRE
HOW TO ENJOY A SCANDAL
NATURE OF THE BEAST
THE CHRISTMAS COUNTESS
HOW TO SEDUCE A SINNER
Published by Zebra Books
How To SEDUCE A SINNER
Adrienne Basso
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
To Dad & Linda.
Your love, encouragement, and unending support
mean more to me than I can ever say.
Thank you—
for everything.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
London, Spring, 1818
Dorothea’s heart leapt with excitement as Mr. Arthur Pengrove shifted his position on the marble bench and moved close to her, perilously close. A gentle spring breeze blew the sweet scent of the exotic flowers from the garden into their secluded hideaway; the night sky glowed with dozens of twinkling stars; the muffled strains of music from the ballroom drifted near. It was a picture-perfect night, tailor-made for romance.
“Your eyes are the most enchanting shade of blue, Miss Ellingham. They remind me of a summer sky after dawn has struck, alight with the promise of a glorious day,” he whispered as his eyes dropped to her mouth.
“Oh, Mr. Pengrove.”
Dorothea’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward in subtle encouragement. Finally, he was going to kiss her! She had given Arthur Pengrove her exclusive attention for the past two weeks and now she was about to discover if he was the man she would marry, the partner with whom she would spend the rest of her life. It was a momentous, life-altering moment and her heart beat with excitement.
His breath wafted across her cheek. Valiantly, Dorothea tried to still her racing heart, tried to remain calm and in control. Hesitantly, timidly, Mr. Pengrove’s lips at last touched hers. They felt soft, almost babyish, as they grazed her own. Her initial instinct was to recoil, but she squashed it, hoping the kiss would improve.
Alas, it did not.
How dreadfully disappointing! This was nothing at all like the tantalizing yearning she had longed to feel, the heady desire she so desperately sought.
Dorothea made a small, low sound in the back of her throat, thinking it would stimulate her reticent beau. But the noise succeeded only in startling him. Mr. Pengrove’s limp, moist lips scuttled across hers a second time, then abruptly pulled away.
Dorothea’s shoulders slumped. The stab of disappointment was a physical pain, deflating her body as well as her spirits. She honestly believed he could have been the one. He was the third man who had courted her this Season, the third man she had allowed to kiss her. Yet apparently her aunt Mildred’s favorite adage of saying the third time was the charm was soundly flawed.
With effort, Dorothea resisted the strong need to lower her face into her palms and sigh heavily with frustration. It would be unforgivably rude to act so insensitively. Instead, she pressed her fingers hard against her temple, trying to ease the sudden pounding in her head.
Her despondency so overtook her awareness that she was barely conscious of Mr. Pengrove’s actions until out of the corner of her eye
