“It’s dated three months ago. It begins, ‘May it please Your Grace—’ ” “What was that?” he murmured. “Repeat it for me. Just those last three words.” The last three words? Izzy consulted the paper. “Please Your Gra—” Oh, the shameless rogue. She gave in. “Please, Your Grace.” “With pleasure.” He slipped one hand to cup her breast. The other delved under her skirts. “Ransom,” she chided. “Someone could come in at any moment.” “Yes. They could. That’s what makes it so exciting.”
