If the Viscount Falls Quotes

“Will you never forgive me for what I did so long ago, Jane?”
The soft question caught her off guard. “Would you do it again if you had the chance?” She could hardly breathe, awaiting his answer.
With a low oath, he glanced away. Then his features hardened into those of the rigid and arrogant Dom he had become. “Yes. I did the only thing I could to keep you happy.”
Her breath turned to ice in her throat. “That’s the problem. You still really believe that.”
His gaze swung to her again, but before he could say anything more, noises in the hall arrested them both.
“It’s gone very quiet in there.” It was the duke’s voice, remarkably clear, sounding as if it came from right outside the door. “Perhaps we should knock first.”
Oh no! As Jane frantically set her gown to rights, she heard Lisette say, “Don’t you dare bother them, Max. I’m sure everything’s fine. Let’s come back later.”
With panic growing in her belly, Jane glanced around for her tucker. Wordlessly, Dom plucked it from the back of a chair and handed it to her.
Without meeting his gaze, she pinned it into her bodice, hoping to hide the tiny holes where Dom had unwittingly ripped it free of its pins.
“Besides,” drawled Tristan, “it’s not as if Dom will seduce her or anything. That’s not his vice.”
Sweet Lord, were they all right outside the door?
“I’m not worried about that,” Max answered. “Miss Vernon isn’t the sort to let him seduce her.”
As Jane tensed, Dom hissed under his breath, “Do the blasted idiots not realize we can hear them?”
“Apparently not.”
Dom furtively adjusted his trousers, which seemed to be rather…oddly protruding just now.
Ohhh. Right. This was one time she wished Nancy hadn’t been so forthcoming about what happened to a man’s body when he was aroused. So that, not his pistol, had been the odd bulge digging into her.
Definitely not a pistol. Her cheeks positively flamed. Faith, how could she even face his family after this and not give away what she and Dom had been doing?
Mortified, she hurried to the looking glass to fix her hair. While she stuffed tendrils back into place and repinned drooping curls, Dom came up behind her to meet her gaze in the mirror. “Before we let them in, I want an answer to my question about Blakeborough.”
Curse the stubborn man. How could she tell Dom she was so pathetic that she hadn’t even managed to find another man to love in all the years they’d spent apart? That she’d been foolish enough to wait around for Dom all this time, when he’d happily gone on living his life without her? Her pride couldn’t endure having him know that.
To her relief, Tristan said, “Well, whatever they’re up to, we have to get moving.” A knock sounded at the door. “Dom? Jane? Are you done talking?”
She met Dom’s gaze with a certain defiance, and he arched one eyebrow in question.
So she took matters into her own hands and strode for the door. Caught off guard, Dom swore behind her and snatched up his greatcoat just as she opened the door and said, “Please come in. We’re quite finished.”
In more ways than one.
Their companions trooped in, casting her and Dom wary glances. Jane looked over to see Dom holding his greatcoat looped over his arm as if to shield the front of him. That brought the blushes back to her cheeks.
She caught Lisette furtively watching her, and she cursed herself for wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Better shift her attention elsewhere before Lisette guessed just how shameless she’d been.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I do so enjoy having a viscount fall before me.”
She started to remove her robe, but he stayed her with his hand. “Don’t.” He raked her with a heated glance. “Next session of parliament, I’ll endure the boredom of the endless speeches by imagining you seducing me in all your pomp and circumstance.”
“My pomp is nothing to yours, my love,” she murmured as she caught his rampant flesh in her hand. “Yours is quite…er…pompous.”
“That’s what happens if the viscount falls.” He thrust against her hand. “His pomp always rises.”
And as she laughed, they created a pomp and circumstance all their own.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“All this subterfuge in order to talk to me could have been prevented if you’d just ridden with me earlier today, when I asked.”
“Really?” She smoothed his disordered hair, which was sticking up at all angles. “You wouldn’t have spent the entire trip detailing reasons why I ‘must’ marry you?”
He flinched. “I’m sorry, Jane. Apparently, when I find myself with my back to the wall, I bark orders.”
“I know.” She straightened his cravat. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do well with men who bark orders or make plans for me. It makes me want to shove them off a cliff.”
“Or refuse to marry them?”
“That, too.”
“Then I can see it’s a habit I shall have to break, if I am to keep you happy.” He glanced away. “Sometimes it’s just…I don’t know…easier to bark orders than to ask. Safer. No one has a chance to say no.”
It hit her then. That was precisely why he felt more comfortable ordering people about, setting up plans, being in charge. Because when he wasn’t in control, there was a chance he’d be left out in the cold. Left in a house with oblivious servants and a brother who despised him for taking his mother away by the simple fact of being born.
Left alone. Her poor, dear love.
Jane kept her eyes trained on his cravat. “But if you don’t ever give people a chance to say no, you can never know if they will rise to the occasion or not.”
He tipped up her chin until she was staring into his eyes. “I wronged you terribly by not trusting you to rise to the occasion, didn’t I? If I’d married you and carried you off to the garret, I daresay you would have stayed by my side. Loved me. Cherished me.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I like to think I would have. I certainly would have tried. It would have been worth it to be with you.”
“Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he said earnestly. “I once told you I would do it again, given the chance. But I was lying, to myself as well as you. I could never do it again. Certainly not now that I know what it’s like to have you for my own. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you all these years.”
It was all she could do not to burst into tears right then and there. But that would only alarm him. So she choked them down enough to say, “No more than I missed you, I expect.”
With a groan, he kissed her, long and hot. It was a sweet promise of things to come, a portent of their future together.
When he was done, she wiped away tears. “To be fair, if we had married then, who knows what would have become of us? I doubt I would have liked your running about the country as a spy, leaving me alone for weeks at a time. And I daresay you would have had trouble concentrating on your work for worrying about me.”
His grateful smile showed that he appreciated her attempt to mitigate his betrayal.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Oh, Lord. I have once again jilted a fiancé, haven’t I? I’m forever going to be known as the woman who jilted two men.” She made a face. “I should have calling cards made--‘Jane the Jilt,’ to go along with ‘Dom the Almighty.’”
“I will never carry a card with the appellation ‘Dom the Almighty,’ so just put that right out of your head,” he said irritably. “In any case, since you’re marrying me, I’m no longer jilted.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Stopping just short of her mouth, he rasped, “Are you still engaged to Blakeborough?”
Her gorgeous eyes narrowed. “My engagement didn’t stop you last night.”
“It would now.”
A coy smile broke over her lips, and she tightened her grip on his neck. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I am not.”
With a growl of triumph, he kissed her once more. She was here. She was his. Nothing else mattered.
Still kissing her, he jerked both sets of curtains closed. Then he tugged her onto his lap and began to tear at the fastenings of her pelisse-dress. He wanted to touch her, taste her…be inside her. He could think of naught else.
“I take it that you mean to seduce me,” she murmured between kisses.
“Yes.” Seduce her and marry her. And then seduce her again, as often as he could.
“Well then, carry on.”
So he did. He unfastened her clothes just enough to bare her breasts, then seized one in his mouth. God, she was perfect. His perfect jewel.
She buried her hands in his hair to pull her into him, sighing and moaning as if she would die if he didn’t make love to her. Which was exactly how he felt.
Working his hand up beneath her skirts and into the slit in her drawers, he found her so wet and hot that he nearly came right there. He slipped a finger inside her silky sweetness, and she gasped, then began to tug at his trouser buttons.
“You’re all I want, Jane.” As he stroked her, he used his other hand to brush hers away so he could unfasten his own trouser buttons. “The only woman I ever cared about.”
“You’re the only man Iever cared about.” She undulated against his fingers, begging for him with her body. “Why do you think…I waited for you so long?”
“Not long enough, apparently,” he muttered, “or you wouldn’t have gotten yourself engaged to Blakeborough.” He tugged at her nipple with his teeth, then relished her cry of pleasure.
“I only…did it because I was…tired of waiting.” She arched against his mouth. “Because you clearly weren’t…coming back for me.”
“I was sure you hated me.” At last he got his trousers open. “You acted like you hated me still.”
“I did.” Her breath was unsteady. “But only because…you tore us apart.”
He shifted her to sit astride him. “And now?”
Flashing him a provocative smile he would never have dreamed she had in her repertoire, she unbuttoned his drawers. “Do I look like I hate you?”
His cock, so hard he thought it might erupt right there and embarrass him, sprang free. “You look like…like…”
He paused to take in her lovely face with its flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and lush lips. Then he swept his gaze down to her breasts with their brazen tips, displayed so enticingly above the boned corset and her undone shift. He then dropped his eyes to the smooth thighs emerging from beneath her bunched-up skirts.
Shoving the fabric higher, he exposed her dewy thatch of curls, and a shudder of anticipation shook him. “You look like an angel.”
She uttered a breathy laugh. “A wanton, more like.”
Taking his cock in her hand, she stroked it so wonderfully that he groaned. “Would an angel do this?”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“God, Jane, you’re exactly as I imagined. Only better.”
“You’re exactly…as I imagined,” she said in a strained tone. “Only bigger.”
That got his attention. He drew back to stare at her. “Are you all right?”
She forced a smile. “Now I’m rethinking the seduction.”
He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s see what I can do about that.” He grabbed her beneath her thighs. “Hook your legs around mine if you can.”
When she did, the pressure eased some, and she let out a breath.
“Better?” he rasped.
She nodded.
Covering her breast with his hand, he kneaded it gently as he pushed farther into her below. “It will feel even better if you can relax.”
Relax? Might as well ask a tree to ignore the ax biting into it. “I’ll try,” she murmured.
She forced herself to concentrate on other things than his very thick thing--like how he was touching her, how he was fondling her…how amazing it felt to be joined so intimately to the man she’d been waiting nearly half her life for.
Then it got easier. She actually seemed to adjust to his size. And when he slid his hand down from her breast to stroke that special spot between her legs that sent her flying, it was most effective. She wasn’t quite flying, exactly, but she was definitely leaping a bit.
A giggle escaped her at that thought, and he bit out, “Something strike you as funny, sweeting?”
“I never guessed that…this would feel…so odd.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
The hint of a future for them melted her even more than his hand down there. And that’s when he began to move, sliding out and then back in. Heavens. That was intriguing. Rather nice, actually. The more he did it, the better it felt.
Then he removed his hand so he could better grip her hips, and he plunged harder into her. Oh, now that was quite…oh my. Very, very nice.
His gaze burned into her as he drove deep. “Less odd now?” he managed.
“Definitely…less odd.” She kissed the taut line of his jaw. “Quite…enjoyable, in fact.”
He grunted and buried his face in her hair the way he was burying his…thing inside her, and it was deliciously sinful. Now she really was flying, up toward the sun.
As if he realized it, he dug his hands into her hips and thrust fiercely, repeatedly, and she met his rhythm with a pushing of her own that sent her soaring.
“Dom…oh, Dom…oh my…”
“Jane,” he rasped as his strokes grew frenzied. “It’s always…been you. Only you.”
“Only you,” she echoed.
She’d been fooling herself about Edwin. There had only ever been one man in her heart. And as he drove himself deep inside her, he sent her vaulting into the sun.
When he followed her into the bliss, she clutched him close to her chest and prayed that he would let her inside his heart as deeply as she’d let him into hers. That she wasn’t making a mistake by taking up with him again.
Because it was too late to go back now. This time, he had her for better or worse.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Jane knew from Dom’s flinch that he’d been hoping for a different response, but she couldn’t help it--she spoke the truth.
When he acted like a gentleman, as he had at dinner, she remembered exactly why she’d fallen in love with him. But when he reminded her of how he’d made assumptions and, worse yet, used those assumptions to decide her future for her, she couldn’t bear it. Because he was still doing it, still demanding his way and dictating terms and ignoring her concerns.
She understood the courtly gentleman. It was the autocratic devil she had trouble understanding.
And she might as well admit it. She twisted her head to look up at him. “I don’t know how I feel about you anymore.”
The pain that slashed over his features only confused her further. Was he genuinely hurt by the thought that he’d killed her love? Or was his pride merely bruised because he hadn’t been able to step right back into her life as if the past meant nothing?
“At least tell me the truth about Blakeborough,” he said hoarsely. “Do you love him?”
“Why does it matter?”
His eyes ate her up. “If you do, I’ll keep my distance. I’ll stay out of your life from now on.”
“You’ve been doing that easily enough for the past twelve years,” she snapped. “I don’t see why my feelings for Edwin should change anything.”
“Easily? It was never easy, I assure you.” His expression was stony. “And you’re avoiding the question. Are you in love with Blakeborough?”
How she wished she could lie about it. Dom would take himself off, and she wouldn’t be tempted by him anymore. Unfortunately, he could always tell when she was lying. “And if I say I’m not?”
“Then I won’t rest until you’re mine again.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“A few hours later, Jane came out of her boudoir to find her husband in his dressing gown, stretched out across the bed reading the newspaper and idly petting their spaniel Little Archer, a pup from Mrs. Patch’s brood.
Seizing the moment, Little Archer leapt off the bed and into her dressing room, where he could chew up slippers to his heart’s content. Dom, however, didn’t even look up as she entered.
“They’re calling this the most elegant coronation in history.” He snorted. “I noticed there’s no mention of its being the most interminable.”
“Dom,” she purred as she closed the dog into the dressing room for the moment.
“All that pomp and circumstance is so tedious.” Still reading, he turned the page of the newspaper. “Ravenswood told me that King William is determined to make sure that parliamentary reform is enacted.”
She walked languidly forward. “Dom.”
He snapped the paper to straighten it. “It’s about bloody time. I should think--”
“Dom!” she practically shouted.
“Hmm?” He glanced up, then frowned. “Why are you wearing your coronation robe?”
“I was cold,” she said with a teasing smile. She let the robe fall open. “Since I have nothing on underneath.”
Dom stared, then gulped. Unsurprisingly, his staff jerked instantly to attention. “If you’re trying to torture me,” he said hoarsely, “you’re doing a good job of it.”
She sashayed toward the bed, letting the velvet and ermine robe swing about her. “No torture intended.” She put one knee on the bed. “Dr. Worth said I may resume relations with my husband whenever I am ready.”
He blinked, then rose to his knees and seized her about the waist. “May I assume that you’re ready?” he rasped as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.
“You have no idea.” She met his mouth with hers.
They kissed a long moment, a hot, heavenly kiss that reminded her of how very talented her husband was at this aspect of marriage. She untied his dressing gown and shoved it off his shoulders. He had just finished tearing off his drawers when she shoved him down onto the bed.
His eyes lit up as she hovered over him. “Ah, so it’s to be like that, my wicked little seductress?”
“Oh, yes.” She grinned at him. “I do so enjoy having a viscount fall before me.”
She started to remove her robe, but he stayed her with his hand. “Don’t.” He raked her with a heated glance. “Next session of parliament, I’ll endure the boredom of the endless speeches by imagining you seducing me in all your pomp and circumstance.”
“My pomp is nothing to yours, my love,” she murmured as she caught his rampant flesh in her hand. “Yours is quite…er…pompous.”
“That’s what happens if the viscount falls.” He thrust against her hand. “His pomp always rises.”
And as she laughed, they created a pomp and circumstance all their own.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“He’d just reached the hall when Jane ran out after him. “Dom, wait.”
He smiled at her. “What is it, sweeting?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She came up to press a kiss to his cheek. “For letting me question her. For not turning all investigator-like and bellowing questions at her. I know she’ll have to face plenty of that at the trial.”
“I’ll keep her out of it if I can, but if the choice is sending him to prison or covering up the scandal--”
“You should send him to prison,” she said fiercely. “No question about that.”
He chuckled. “You are far more bloodthirsty than I ever would have guessed.”
“And more hardy, I hope?”
“Definitely.”
Her eyes sparkled at him. “Does this mean you’ll make me an honorary Duke’s Man, after all?”
“Certainly not,” he said in a falsely stern voice. When she lifted an eyebrow at him, he swept his gaze down her and grinned. “There is nothing remotely manly about you, sweeting. So you’ll have to be an honorary Duke’s Lady.”
She beamed at him. “I’m going to remind you of that when I ask you to teach me how to shoot.”
His grin faltered. “Teach you to what?” he said as she headed back to Nancy’s room. “Have you gone mad?”
Her laughter wafted back to him as she closed the door, and he realized with relief that she was joking.
Or was she?
Good God. As a wife, Jane was clearly going to be a joy and a trial, a blessing and a curse. Once they married, she was going to throw all his plans into disarray, and all his careful control right out the window.
He smiled. He couldn’t wait to begin.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I thought he was in love with me,” Nancy said petulantly. “I truly did.”
Jane let out an exasperated breath. “You knew he’d been disinherited. Didn’t that give you some pause?”
“Yes, but…well…he told me it was all that girl’s fault. That she’d let him on and spun a tale to deceive his father and---” She grimaced. “I suppose that was all lies.”
“To say the least,” Dom muttered. More and more, he began to see why Jane had defended the woman. Because she realized just how dim-witted her cousin could be about men.
“You said you went to York to see a doctor about the baby,” Jane propped. “Why not just use the doctor you’ve always used?”
He had to admit that Jane was rather good at the interrogation part. Perhaps the “honorary Duke’s Man” thing wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
Nancy thrust out her chin. “He would have gone straight to Dom with the news. I wanted…someone unrelated to the family.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed on her. “But why not ask me to take you before I left? I can see why you didn’t want to involve Dom, given the sticky nature of the situation, but I wouldn’t have told him, and I could probably have found you a doctor.”
“Yes, but…well…”
“You also wanted to see Samuel,” Dom said cynically. “And you could hardly do that with Jane around to disapprove.”
Nancy shrugged feebly. “I figured I would already be in York to see a doctor, anyway. And Samuel had asked me to marry him. What would be the harm in it?”
Jane glanced at Dom and rolled her eyes heavenward. It made him wonder how often she’d had to deal with such nonsense from her cousin in the past.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“What happened to him?”
Dom came up beside them. “Jane shot him.”
“She missed his privates by only a couple of inches,” Victor said in an admiring voice.
“A pity she didn’t hit them.” Nancy darted past Jane to stare down at Samuel with her hands planted on her hips. Then, to Jane’s shock, she kicked him in the ribs. “That’s for lying to me.” She kicked him in the knee. “And that’s for kidnapping me.”
“Nancy, darling--” he choked out.
“Don’t you ‘darling’ me, you worm!” She ground her heel into his wounded leg. “You held a pistol to my head, you disgusting, reprehensible--”
“Enough,” Victor said, pulling Nancy away from Samuel. “I think he’s got the point.”
“You bitch!” Samuel cried after her. “I could have made you a rich woman! We could have had the whole thing, you frigid little--”
Jane kicked him herself. As a choked howl escaped him, she glared down at him. “Now, you listen to me, Samuel Barlow. Next time you come near my family, I’ll make sure I hit your privates! And furthermore--”
“Perhaps you should take the ladies home,” Victor told Dom, “while we bring the three scoundrels to the magistrate’s and have them held until charges can be brought. I begin to think they’ll be safer with me and Tristan than with the ladies.”
Dom chuckled. “I believe you’re right.” He slipped an arm about Jane’s waist to pull her away from Samuel. “Come on, sweeting, time to go.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“We would never have tracked him down if you hadn’t followed him.”
“Or if Jane hadn’t convinced Meredith to tell us where the house is,” Tristan said. “Your fiancé is quite a woman.”
“I know.” And she never ceased to amaze him.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“To be fair, if we had married then, who knows what would have become of us? I doubt I would have liked your running about the country as a spy, leaving me alone for weeks at a time. And I daresay you would have had trouble concentrating on your work for worrying about me.”
His grateful smile showed that he appreciated her attempt to mitigate his betrayal.
“Of course, later you could have…well…come after me. Once you established your business. While I was still un-betrothed. Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t suppose you would accept rampant idiocy as a reason?”
“I would…if I really thought it were the reason.” When he stiffened, she added archly, “You aren’t generally an idiot. Daft and a tad overbearing, yes, but not an idiot.”
A sigh escaped him. He leaned past her to pull the curtain open just enough so he could keep an eye on the street.
When it looked as if he might not answer, she added, “Tristan thinks you didn’t come after me because you were afraid that I couldn’t love you.”
He cast her a startled glance. “You told Tristan the truth about us?”
She winced. “And Lisette and Max. Sorry. Tristan sort of…forced it out of me.”
“Well, that explains why Max and Lisette were willing to bring you here in the midst of such a crucial investigation. They’ve been pressing me for a long time to give you another chance. Because they thought you betrayed me.”
Grabbing her hands, he gazed down at them with a haunted look. “And I suppose there’s some truth to my brother’s words. But I also didn’t come after you because that would have been a tacit admission that I’d made a mistake. That in so doing, I’d ruined our lives. I was afraid if I admitted I’d been wrong, then it had all been for nothing. I’d sacrificed my happiness--your happiness--for nothing.”
“Oh, Dom,” she whispered and squeezed his hands.
“A part of me also thought if I didn’t approach you at all, there was still a chance we could be together again. But if I asked and you said no--or worse yet, said that you no longer cared about me--it would be over for good. As long as I didn’t ask, there was always hope. And hope is what kept me going.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Until you got engaged. That quashed my hope. It was what I’d told myself I wanted for you. Because it proved that I’d been right to put you aside.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Unfortunately, being right was cold comfort when it meant I’d lost you for good. By the time you came to me that day at Rathmoor Park, I was in a very dark state. I was resigning myself to a lifetime of loneliness, of wanting you and not having you.”
“You would have let me marry Edwin?” she said incredulously. “Even though you still loved me?”
“You were still going to marry him, weren’t you?” he countered. “Knowing that you still loved me.”
“True.” She attempted a smile. “I would have done it just to bedevil you.”
“No doubt,” he said dryly.
“But it would have been a mistake, and I’d have been miserable.”
He pressed a kiss to their joined hands. “Then I suppose we should really thank Nancy for her shenanigans. Or else we’d still be separate and miserable.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Oh, Lord. I have once again jilted a fiancé, haven’t I? I’m forever going to be known as the woman who jilted two men.” She made a face. “I should have calling cards made--‘Jane the Jilt,’ to go along with ‘Dom the Almighty.’”
“I will never carry a card with the appellation ‘Dom the Almighty,’ so just put that right out of your head,” he said irritably. “In any case, since you’re marrying me, I’m no longer jilted.” He paused a moment to shoot her a wary glance. “You are marrying me, aren’t you?”
That was even closer to asking. “Say ‘please,’” she teased.
Though he eyed her askance, he pulled her close for a long, lingering kiss, then said, “Please, Jane, will you marry me?”
She beamed at him. “I do believe I will.”
He sobered. “Even if Nancy actually does turn out to be bearing George’s son, and he inherits everything?”
“Of course. You’re head of the Duke’s Men. I would be a fool to pass up such a match.” When he scowled at her, she burst into laughter. “Max and Lisette told me all about how your agency got the name. I must say I found it vastly amusing.”
“You would,” he grumbled. “And you still haven’t said why your uncle let you go off with them.” After she related her elaborate deception, he shook his head. “All this subterfuge in order to talk to me could have been prevented if you’d just ridden with me earlier today, when I asked.”
“Really?” She smoothed his disordered hair, which was sticking up at all angles. “You wouldn’t have spent the entire trip detailing reasons why I ‘must’ marry you?”
He flinched. “I’m sorry, Jane. Apparently, when I find myself with my back to the wall, I bark orders.”
“I know.” She straightened his cravat. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do well with men who bark orders or make plans for me. It makes me want to shove them off a cliff.”
“Or refuse to marry them?”
“That, too.”
“Then I can see it’s a habit I shall have to break, if I am to keep you happy.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“How did you find me, anyway?”
“We went to your office, and your butler told us you had left to come here.” She laughed, remembering it. “Max said, ‘What, already?’ and Mr. Shaw said, rather loftily, that you could ‘wait for no man’s leisure’ and ‘tend on no man’s business.’ I gather that the man is as fond of Much Ado about Nothing as we are.”
“Oh, he likes them all,” Dom said dryly. “Too many years spent as a bit player in the theater, I’m afraid. He keeps hoping that if he memorizes every play in existence, he will advance to a lead role.” He fastened his trousers. “But how did you even get away from your uncle and Blakeborough? They just let you ride off after me with Max and Lisette?”
“Well, Blakeborough had no choice since I had just jilted him.” She sighed. “Oh, Lord. I have once again jilted a fiancé, haven’t I? I’m forever going to be known as the woman who jilted two men.” She made a face. “I should have calling cards made--‘Jane the Jilt,’ to go along with ‘Dom the Almighty.’”
“I will never carry a card with the appellation ‘Dom the Almighty,’ so just put that right out of your head,” he said irritably. “In any case, since you’re marrying me, I’m no longer jilted.” He paused a moment to shoot her a wary glance. “You are marrying me, aren’t you?”
That was even closer to asking. “Say ‘please,’” she teased.
Though he eyed her askance, he pulled her close for a long, lingering kiss, then said, “Please, Jane, will you marry me?”
She beamed at him. “I do believe I will.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Jane felt limp and sated and thoroughly wicked as she snuggled against Dom. They were still joined below, though he’d begun to soften inside her. Still, how naughty it was to be here like this, how deliciously carnal to have made love while they were both half-dressed. Why, Dom still even wore his cravat! She didn’t know why that excited her, though it did.
But not as much as Dom saying “please” over and over. Letting her take control of their lovemaking. Even encouraging her to do it.
And not nearly as much as Dom asking her to marry him.
Well, he didn’t really ask, exactly. He demanded it yet again. But he’d said “please,” and that made all the difference. Especially since he’d then asked her to love him.
Silly man. As if she had any choice in the matter.
“I do love you, you know,” she whispered. “I can’t help myself. I fell in love with you practically from the moment we met, and I never stopped.”
“I love you, too, sweeting,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Always have, always will.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. She’d waited so long to hear those words again, she could scarcely believe them.
She pulled back to search his face. “Truly?”
“Truly.” With infinite tenderness, he brushed her fringe of curls from her eyes. “I tried so hard to forget you after we parted. But I couldn’t. Not for one day.”
That earned him a long kiss…that, and the prospect of him as hers. Her very own husband. Oh, yes. She could let herself think it now. They could marry at once, or at least as soon as this business with Nancy was over.
Nancy! Oh, Lord, she’d forgotten all about her cousin.
Sliding off him, she frantically sought to put her clothing to rights. “You don’t think that Meredith returned while we were…you know…”
“No.” A faint amusement lightened his tone as he tucked himself back into his drawers and buttoned them. “The man I spoke to said she and her family return at seven every night.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s only six now.”
“Thank heaven.” She tugged her skirts and petticoats into place and patted her hair. “I do wish that hackney coaches came with mirrors.”
Dom’s eyes gleamed at her. “Be glad I didn’t take your hair down completely, while I was mauling you with all the self-control of some half-grown lad.”
She shot him a teasing glance. “I didn’t mind. You maul very well. And making love in a carriage, with the world passing by unsuspecting, was rather…well…thrilling.”
“I can do without that kind of thrill, frankly. If anyone had discovered us…” He shuddered. “Next time we make love, it will be in a bed, and I will treat you with the tenderness you deserve.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I take it that you mean to seduce me,” she murmured between kisses.
“Yes.” Seduce her and marry her. And then seduce her again, as often as he could.
“Well then, carry on.”
So he did.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I love it when you can’t control yourself,” she whispered. “I love having you at my mercy. You have no idea…how much I enjoy seeing Dom the Almighty brought low.”
He barely registered her words. What she was doing felt so good. So bloody damned good. If she stroked him much more…
“I want to be inside you.” He gripped her wrist. “Please, Jane…”
Her sensuous smile faltered. “You’ve never said ‘please’ to me before. Not in your whole life.”
“Really?” Had he only ever issued orders? If so, no wonder she’d refused him last night.
Perhaps it was time to show her she didn’t have to seduce him to gain control. That he could give up his control freely…to her, at least. “Then let me say it now. Please, Jane, make love to me. If you don’t mind.”
She stared at him. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
He nodded to his cock, which looked downright ecstatic over the idea. “Get up on your knees and fit me inside you.” Realizing he’d just issued yet another order, he added, “Please. If you want.”
Jane got that sultry look on her face again. Like the little seductress she was rapidly showing herself to be, she rose up and then came down on him.
By degrees. Very slow degrees.
He had trouble breathing. “Am I hurting you?”
Her smile broadened as she shimmied down another inch. “Not really.”
Stifling a curse, he clutched her arms. “You just…enjoy torturing me.”
“Absolutely,” she said and moved his hands to cover her breasts.
He was more than happy to oblige her unspoken request, happy to thumb her nipples and watch as her lovely mouth fell open and a moan of pure pleasure escaped her.
His cock swelled, and he thrust up involuntarily. “Please…” he said hoarsely. “Please, Jane…”
With a choked laugh, she sheathed herself on him. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh, that feels amazing.”
“It would feel more amazing if you…would move,” he rasped, though the mere sensation of being buried inside her was making him insane. When she arched an eyebrow, he added, “Please.”
“I could get to like this,” she said teasingly. “The begging.”
But even as he groaned, she began to move, like the sensual creature that she was. His sweetheart undulated atop him, her head thrown back and her eyes sliding closed, and for the first time in his life, he was happy to give himself up to someone else’s control. To relish her pleasure, which was also his pleasure.
Somehow he’d stumbled into paradise, ruled by his own personal angel. His own personal siren.
“You like having me…in your power, do you?” he said.
“Yes, oh, yes.” Her eyes brightened as she rode him, harder, faster. “Say it again.”
“What?” He could hardly think for watching her take him. For being inside her so deeply he fancied he could feel her heart, her very soul.
“Please.” Her face was flushed, rapt. “Say…’please’ again.”
“Please.”
Why had he never thought to say it before? This was all he’d ever wanted--to have the enthralling, intoxicating Jane in his arms, in his life. Forever.
A “please” from time to time was little enough to give for that. “Please, my wanton angel.” He clutched her close, his rhythm quickening. “Please…be mine. Please…marry me.”
His release approached like a carriage thundering toward the heavens. Toward paradise. And as the blood roared in his ears, he plunged his cock deeply and emptied himself inside her, crying, “Please…Jane…love me!”
“I do.” With a hoarse cry of her own, she strained against him and found her own release, milking his cock with the force of it. “I do, my darling…I do.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“You’re all I want, Jane.” As he stroked her, he used his other hand to brush hers away so he could unfasten his own trouser buttons. “The only woman I ever cared about.”
“You’re the only man Iever cared about.” She undulated against his fingers, begging for him with her body. “Why do you think…I waited for you so long?”
“Not long enough, apparently,” he muttered, “or you wouldn’t have gotten yourself engaged to Blakeborough.” He tugged at her nipple with his teeth, then relished her cry of pleasure.
“I only…did it because I was…tired of waiting.” She arched against his mouth. “Because you clearly weren’t…coming back for me.”
“I was sure you hated me.” At last he got his trousers open. “You acted like you hated me still.”
“I did.” Her breath was unsteady. “But only because…you tore us apart.”
He shifted her to sit astride him. “And now?”
Flashing him a provocative smile he would never have dreamed she had in her repertoire, she unbuttoned his drawers. “Do I look like I hate you?”
His cock, so hard he thought it might erupt right there and embarrass him, sprang free. “You look like…like…”
He paused to take in her lovely face with its flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and lush lips. Then he swept his gaze down to her breasts with their brazen tips, displayed so enticingly above the boned corset and her undone shift. He then dropped his eyes to the smooth thighs emerging from beneath her bunched-up skirts.
Shoving the fabric higher, he exposed her dewy thatch of curls, and a shudder of anticipation shook him. “You look like an angel.”
She uttered a breathy laugh. “A wanton, more like.”
Taking his cock in her hand, she stroked it so wonderfully that he groaned. “Would an angel do this?”
His cock was a rod of iron. “Jane…” He covered her hand to stay it, but she ignored his attempt.
“I love it when you can’t control yourself,” she whispered. “I love having you at my mercy. You have no idea…how much I enjoy seeing Dom the Almighty brought low.”
He barely registered her words. What she was doing felt so good. So bloody damned good. If she stroked him much more…
“I want to be inside you.” He gripped her wrist. “Please, Jane…”
Her sensuous smile faltered. “You’ve never said ‘please’ to me before. Not in your whole life.”
“Really?” Had he only ever issued orders? If so, no wonder she’d refused him last night.
Perhaps it was time to show her she didn’t have to seduce him to gain control. That he could give up his control freely…to her, at least. “Then let me say it now. Please, Jane, make love to me. If you don’t mind.”
She stared at him. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
He nodded to his cock, which looked downright ecstatic over the idea. “Get up on your knees and fit me inside you.” Realizing he’d just issued yet another order, he added, “Please. If you want.”
Jane got that sultry look on her face again. Like the little seductress she was rapidly showing herself to be, she rose up and then came down on him.
By degrees. Very slow degrees.
He had trouble breathing. “Am I hurting you?”
Her smile broadened as she shimmied down another inch. “Not really.”
Stifling a curse, he clutched her arms. “You just…enjoy torturing me.”
“Absolutely,” she said and moved his hands to cover her breasts.
He was more than happy to oblige her unspoken request, happy to thumb her nipples and watch as her lovely mouth fell open and a moan of pure pleasure escaped her.
His cock swelled, and he thrust up involuntarily. “Please…” he said hoarsely. “Please, Jane…”
With a choked laugh, she sheathed herself on him. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh, that feels amazing.”
“It would feel more amazing if you…would move,” he rasped, though the mere sensation of being buried inside her was making him insane. When she arched an eyebrow, he added, “Please.”
“I could get to like this,” she said teasingly. “The begging.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“So he could talk to Jane and find out what had happened between her and Blakeborough after he left. He could finally get an answer to his marriage proposal.
Proposal? Jane would probably call it a marriage command.
He groaned. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to her while he waited. He could always pack her off in another hackney before it was time for Meredith to return home. Yes, that would be best.
Climbing inside the hackney, he doffed his hat and shrugged out of his box coat. But all of his perfectly logical reasons for being there went right out of his head the moment he saw her looking so luscious and lovely in her sunny gown.
Because he desired only one thing. Jane. In his arms. Now.
She must have seen the feral need flare in his face, for her eyes went wide. That was the only reaction she had time for, however, before he dragged her into his embrace so he could take her mouth in a hard, urgent kiss.
God, he wanted her. He would never stop wanting her. Fisting his hands in her puffy sleeves to hold her still, he plundered her mouth the way he ached to plunder her body.
Suddenly she shoved him back. “What are you doing? That’s not why--”
He clasped her head in his hands, dislodging her bonnet, which tumbled to the floor. Then he kissed her again, demanding her to kiss him back, to need him back. It took her a moment, but then she moaned low in her throat and melted against him.
And he exulted. She was soft, so wonderfully soft, his Jane. So wonderfully giving. Surely she wouldn’t be responding to him this way if she had cemented her engagement to Blakeborough.
But then, he’d thought that last night.
He jerked back, gratified to see from her flushed cheeks, reddened lips, and bright eyes that she was now as eager and aroused as he. Indeed, she was already looping her arms about his neck to draw him close once more.
Stopping just short of her mouth, he rasped, “Are you still engaged to Blakeborough?”
Her gorgeous eyes narrowed. “My engagement didn’t stop you last night.”
“It would now.”
A coy smile broke over her lips, and she tightened her grip on his neck. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I am not.”
With a growl of triumph, he kissed her once more. She was here. She was his. Nothing else mattered.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“If Dom has taught me anything, it’s that given the choice between a marriage of convenience and no marriage at all, I would choose the latter.”
“But what you’re really angling for is a marriage for love.” When she cast him a sad smile, Edwin rolled his eyes. “You and Yvette are both cloyingly romantic.”
“Which is probably why neither of us has managed to gain a husband.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I want to go with you, Dom,” Jane said.
Her uncle put his arm about her shoulders. “Let the men do their work, my dear. You should stay here with your fiancé.”
The reminder of her still-standing betrothal made Dom want to smash something. But her uncle was right--she would only get in the way if she joined them. And there was the problem of her riding off unchaperoned with two gentlemen.
“Listen to your uncle,” Dom said. “It’s best if you remain here with your…friends.” He couldn’t bring himself to use the word fiancé.
Her eyes sparked fire. “So you mean to just go rushing off with your mind set? You’ll almost certainly put Nancy in danger if you continue assuming she’s part of the scheme.”
“You must trust me, Jane.” When the word must made her flinch, he cursed his quick tongue and deliberately softened his tone. “I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, but I do know what I’m doing. No matter what my opinions, I’ll let the facts stand for themselves. I promise I won’t harm her or allow anyone else to harm her, sweeting.”
Only after a stunned silence fell on the room did he realize what he’d called Jane. She did, too, for her eyes went wide and a blush stained her cheeks again.
Blakeborough’s eyes glittered like sleet on slate as he strode over to Dom and thrust the piece of paper at him. “Here’s the list of Samuel’s haunts. You’d best go if you mean to catch them.”
They stared each other down, silently acknowledging their status as rivals for Jane’s hand. How Dom wished he could set everyone straight, tell them that he and Jane were going to be married, and to blazes with Sadler and Blakeborough and anyone who stood in their way.
But he’d tried to force the issue once and that had only muddied the waters. It was time to let Jane make up her own mind.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“So your theory is that Nancy plans to marry Samuel, pass off as her own the child he fathered on her maid, and then raise it, assuming it’s a boy, to be heir to the title. That doesn’t gain Nancy much, does it? It’s not her son, and she’s not Samuel’s only lover. He and his mistress and the son get everything; she gets only the privilege of knowing she’s married to a seducer.”
Dom ignored the fact that some of what she said made sense. “She gains an exalted rank as mother to the new viscount. She gains a husband she’s always coveted. And she might not even care if Samuel was having an affair with her maid--you said yourself that Nancy wasn’t fond of the intimate side of marriage.”
The moment Jane paled, he realized what he’d said. Something highly inappropriate. Something that revealed just how frank he and Jane had been in their conversations. God only knew what Blakeborough would make of that.
Bloody hell. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t help Dom’s situation with Jane any. Not that any of this would. Damn Nancy for coming between them yet again.
Jane’s gaze turned stormy as she poked him in the chest. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? But as usual, you ignore all the ways that your theory doesn’t fit.”
He stared her down. “Such as what?”
Again she poked him in the chest. “Why did Samuel mention coming to London to see a doctor if they were sure that Nancy had lost the baby?” Another poke. “Why did she leave York in such strange circumstances that she roused our suspicions?” Poke. “Why did she not even pack bags for the journey?”
When she started to poke him once more, he grabbed her hand. “Perhaps she and Barlow worked up the scheme once she got to York.”
Jane snatched her hand free. “And she didn’t try to return to Rathmoor Park to allay the servants’ suspicions or pack or even take her dogs?”
“Nancy didn’t take her dogs?” Sadler echoed. “That’s not right, not right at all. That girl carries those deuced dogs everywhere. Many is the trip I’ve taken with her when I’ve had to endure the mutts in my lap.” Sadler approached to stand beside Jane. “I tell you, the only way she’d leave them behind is if Barlow abducted her and forced her to do his bidding. That’s what has happened. I know it!”
With a smug lift of her eyebrow, Jane crossed her arms over her chest and dared Dom to refute that.
He couldn’t. Because until he could investigate more, he simply couldn’t be sure of the truth, damn it.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Well, Edwin?” Jane asked anxiously. “Would he hurt her?”
Blakeborough squeezed Jane’s shoulder, then left his hand resting there. That seemed remarkably intimate for a man who supposedly had only a platonic-sounding “arrangement” with her.
Dom tamped down his urge to go knock the earl’s hand from here into the next county.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Fiancé. The very word scraped him raw. Dom had met Blakeborough half a dozen times back when he’d been courting Jane, but their paths hadn’t crossed since then. As Dom recalled, the earl had been too handsome for his own good.
Through the years, however, rumors had begun to circulate about the man’s disposition--that he was a curmudgeon of sorts, cynical about women and about marriage in general. Which is why Dom had initially been surprised to hear that Jane was engaged to the arse.
Still was engaged to the arse.
Dom scowled. He’d spent the entire trip imagining what he would do when confronted with the man.
The idea of challenging Blakeborough to a duel over Jane was tempting, but not remotely practical. For one thing, it would hurt Jane’s reputation. For another, it might result in Dom losing her anyway. Because if afterward Dom had to flee to avoid prosecution, she might not agree to leave England with him. Besides, it would be awfully hard to drag Rathmoor Park out of arrears from afar.
Dom had even considered telling Blakeborough that his fiancée was no longer chaste. But that would send her into an apoplectic fit, and rightly so. A gentleman didn’t impugn a woman’s reputation to gain what he wanted. Even if what he wanted was the woman as his wife.
No, he would just have to hope that Jane did the right thing and broke with the fellow. In the meantime, Dom would pray he could speak to the man with civility…or at least without wanting to call him out.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“In the course of my discussion with Ravenswood, I tried to get him to tell me how you got your scar, but he wouldn’t. He said I’d have to ask you.”
Jane’s words came suddenly into his head: That’s why you haven’t shared this with your own family? That’s why you keep all of us out? Because you think it was your fault? Oh, my sweet darling, none of it was your fault.
When Dom didn’t answer right away, Tristan went on, “I told Ravenswood you’d always brushed off the question with some nonsense about a fight you got into. But that isn’t true, I assume.”
Dom ventured a glance at his brother and winced to see the hurt on his face. Jane had said, Every time you refuse to reveal your secrets, Dom, I assume that you find me unworthy to hear them. Apparently, that was how he’d made all of them feel. As if he were somehow too important to let them into his life.
Only God could have stopped this disaster, and contrary to what you think, you aren’t God.
When she’d said it, he hadn’t understood why she would accuse him of such a thing. Why she sometimes called him “Dom the Almighty.”
But he understood now. By shielding his guilt from the world, he’d shut himself off from his family. From her. He’d pushed away the very people he should have embraced.
Having just watched Jane retreat into fear and shut him out, he now knew precisely how painful it could feel to be on the receiving end.
If he wanted to change all that, he would have to start opening his heart, letting his family--and her--see the things he was most ashamed of, most worried about. He would have to trust them to understand, to empathize, to love him in spite of everything.
The only other choice was to keep closing himself up until, as she’d said at that ball last year: One day that church you’re building around yourself shall become your crypt. He didn’t want that.
He took a steadying breath as he and Tristan walked up the steps to Ravenswood’s manor house. “As it happens, I did receive my scar in a fight. But it was a fight against the militia at the Peterloo Massacre.”
When Tristan shot him a startled look, Dom halted at the top of the steps to face him. “If you want to hear the story, I’ll tell you all about it. Right now, if you wish.”
Tristan searched his face, as if not quite sure he believed what he was hearing. “I’d like that very much.” Then he broke into a grin. “But only if we do it over a glass of Ravenswood’s brandy. That’s the best damned brandy I’ve ever tasted.”
“One of the privileges of being a spymaster is that you can get your hands on the good stuff,” Dom said lightly, though his stomach churned at the thought of revealing his most humiliating secret, even to his brother.
Still, as they headed inside, Tristan clapped him on the shoulder, and that reassured him. Telling Tristan about Peterloo represented a beginning of sorts, toward a closer friendship than Dom had allowed himself to have with his brother in recent years.
Jane would be proud.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“No, she couldn’t blame this one on him. This one was entirely hers. She’d sent him running away.
Everyone knew it, too, which was nowhere more apparent than in the carriage once they were all settled in and headed off.
Lisette was unusually silent. The duke’s wooden expression said that he wished he could be anywhere else but here. And Tristan was studying her with a cold gaze.
He did that for a mile or so before he spoke. “You’re a cruel woman, Jane Vernon.”
“Tristan!” Lisette chided. “Don’t be rude.”
“I’ll be as rude as I please to her,” he told his sister, with a jerk of his head toward Jane. “That man is mad for her, and she just keeps toying with him.”
Guilt swamped Jane. And she’d thought that spending half a day trapped with Dom would be bad? She must have been dreaming.
“It’s none of our concern,” Lisette murmured.
“The hell it isn’t.” Tristan stared hard at Jane. “Is this about Nancy? About the fact that if she has a child, Dom will lose the title and the estate?”
“No, of course not!” How dared he!
“Tristan, please--” Lisette began.
“That’s why you jilted him years ago, isn’t it?” Tristan persisted. “Because he no longer had any money, and you’d lose your fortune if you married him?”
“I did not jilt him!” Jane shouted.
An unnatural silence fell in the carriage, and she cursed her quick tongue. But really, this was all Dom’s fault for never telling his family the truth. She was tired of being made to look the villainess when she’d done nothing wrong.
“What do you mean?” Lisette asked.
Jane released an exasperated breath. “I mean, I did jilt him. But only because he tricked me into it.” When that brought a smug smile to Tristan’s face, she narrowed her eyes on him. “You knew.”
“Not the details. I just knew something wasn’t right. But since it was clear that neither you nor my idiot brother were going to say anything without being prodded into it, I…er…did a bit of prodding.” He smirked at her. “You do tend to speak your mind when you get angry.”
Jane scowled at him. “You’re just like him, manipulative and arrogant and--”
“I beg to differ,” Tristan said jovially. “He’s just like me. I taught him everything he knows.”
“Yes, indeed,” Lisette said with a snort. “You taught him to be as much an idiot as you.” She glanced from Tristan to Jane. “So, is one of you going to tell me what is going on? About the jilting, I mean?”
Tristan cocked an eyebrow at Jane. “Well?”
She sighed. The cat was out of the bag now. Might as well reveal the rest.
So she related the whole tale, from Dom’s plotting with Nancy at the ball to George’s involvement to how she’d finally discovered the truth.
When she finished, Tristan let out a low whistle. “Hell and thunder. My big brother has a better talent for deception than I realized.”
“Not as good as you’d think,” Jane muttered. “If I hadn’t been so wounded and angry at the time, I would have noticed how…manufactured the whole thing felt.”
Lisette patted her hand. “You were young. We were all more volatile then.” Her voice hardened. “And he hit you just where it hurt, the curst devil. No wonder you want to strangle him half the time. I would have strung him up by his toes if he’d done such a thing to me!”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Though she could feel Dom darting glances at her the whole time, she couldn’t face him, couldn’t even look at him. Not just now, when she was still in turmoil about what they’d done.
About what he’d said to her at the end. It will also give you a chance to decide what you want.
That was the trouble. She didn’t know what she wanted. Well, she did know--she wanted to marry Dom the courteous gentleman. But not Dom the Almighty. She wanted the Dom who mourned for the six children who’d lost their mother needlessly, not the Dom who was sure Nancy was a whore because she’d married his bastard of a brother.
But what if both parts were him? What if she couldn’t have one without the other? Why, he hadn’t even said he loved her!
Then again, neither had she, so she could hardly fault him for that. Their past was still too raw, and they were both still afraid. Perhaps he’d been waiting for her to say it. She’d certainly been waiting for him. Because then she might really believe he meant to make a life with her again, and not go running off at the first sign of disaster.
Like, perhaps, if Nancy proved to be bearing George’s son.
“Since it’s such a beautiful morning,” Dom said, “I was thinking that someone might prefer to ride in the phaeton with me. What do you think, Jane? Shall you join me?”
He was asking. Deliberately asking, not ordering. And she could feel his expectant gaze on her, indeed, feel everyone’s expectant gazes on her. But her thoughts were too jangled right now, and an enforced ride with him would only jangle them more.
Especially since they’d be trapped together for half the day. She wouldn’t be able to escape. Not that she necessarily wanted to escape. Did she?
Oh, Lord, she couldn’t handle this at the moment. “Actually, I was looking forward to chatting with your sister in His Grace’s coach. If you don’t mind.”
Only then did she meet his gaze. It showed nothing of his thoughts, which made everything worse. She’d begun to recognize that bland expression; he only wore it when he was protecting himself. And if he felt a need to protect himself, then she’d hurt him.
She swallowed hard. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Perhaps she should ride with him. Clear the air. Perhaps she was being a coward.
“Whichever you prefer,” he said curtly. Then he walked briskly down the steps to his waiting phaeton, leapt in, and set it going.
And the decision was made for her. Again.
No, she couldn’t blame this one on him. This one was entirely hers. She’d sent him running away.
Everyone knew it, too, which was nowhere more apparent than in the carriage once they were all settled in and headed off.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“Dom, are you out here?” called a voice from somewhere beyond the stables.
Damn it all. It was Tristan.
Swiftly Dom donned his shirt. “Be quiet,” he whispered to Jane, “and he’ll go away.”
Tristan’s voice sounded again, even nearer now. “I swear to God, Dom, if you ride off to London in the dark and make a liar out of me before Ravenswood, I will kick you from here to France!”
“He won’t go away,” Jane whispered back, a hint of desperation in her voice. “He promised Ravenswood that you wouldn’t head for London with broken carriage lamps, and now he’ll want to make sure that you don’t.”
Which meant his arse of a brother wasn’t going to stop looking for him. Any minute now, he’d be striding into the harness room.
Then Jane would have to marry Dom.
As soon as the thought entered Dom’s head, it apparently occurred to her, too, for she paled and stepped near enough to whisper, “Please. Not like this.”
He stared at her ashen face, and his stomach sank. He couldn’t force her to wed him. After what had happened between them years ago, she would never forgive him for taking her choice away from her yet again.
Besides, he didn’t want to force her into anything. The only way he could prove that he didn’t intend to run roughshod over her for the rest of their lives was to walk away now. Even if it killed him.
Bloody hell. “I’ll draw Tristan away from the stables,” Dom said tersely as he shoved his stocking feet into his boots. “That will give you a chance to finish dressing and sneak back into the house.”
Relief spreading over her face, she bobbed her head.
He buttoned up his shirt. “It will also give you a chance to decide what you want.” Gathering up his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, he added in a low murmur, “But know this, Jane. I am not, nor ever intend to be, a man like your father. Somewhere inside of you, you must…” He winced. “You surely do know it.”
He waited long enough to see uncertainty flicker in her eyes. Then he strode out of the harness room and closed the door behind him.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls

“I never dreamed it would be as amazing as that,” she whispered.
“I did.”
“Really?” Her soft voice was a caress. Everything about her was as smooth and silky and sweet as whipped cream.
Well, except for her tart opinions. And her fierce determination to make him tell everything in his soul. Though he had to admit that after confessing his secret fears to her earlier, he felt freer, as if the boulder he’d been carrying for years had dropped from his back.
“I knew it would be perfect.” He gave her a lingering kiss, then drew back to cup her pinkening cheek. “With you it could be nothing less.”
Shyly avoiding his gaze, she finger-combed his short hair. “Nancy always said that sharing a man’s bed was something to ‘endure.’ That marriage was more pleasant without it, but it was required for having children so she’d had to put up with it.”
He skimmed a hand down her lightly freckled arm. “And what do you think, now that you’ve experienced it for yourself?”
“I think I could ‘endure’ it with great enthusiasm.” Jane flashed him a mischievous smile. “But I’m not really sure. Should we try it again so I can make certain?”
Stifling a laugh, he tried to look stern. “We’re lucky none of the grooms have stumbled over us already.” He managed to sound even-toned, though the prospect of taking her again--here, now--was already making him hard. “Speaking of that, we’d better get dressed, before someone finds us here naked.”
A sigh escaped her. “You do have a point. Though I don’t know how you can be so sensible and industrious when all I feel is lazy and content.”
“I’m not being sensible and industrious at all.” Reluctantly he slipped from her arms to go hunt up his drawers. “I’m simply being selfish. The longer you stay naked, the more chance that I will attempt to ravish you again.”
“That sounds perfectly…awful,” she said as she struck a seductive pose.
God save him.
He swept his gaze over her thrusting breasts, her slender belly with its delicate navel, and her auburn thatch of curls. The taste of her was still on his lips, the smell of her still in his nostrils. He wanted her again. And again and again…
Muttering a curse under his breath, he tossed her shift at her. “Put some clothes on before I combust.”
She laughed, a delicate tinkling sound that tightened his cock. Fortunately for his self-restraint, she did as he bade and donned her shift. Only then was he able to breathe, to concentrate on putting on his trousers rather than on the erotic sight of her drawing her stockings up those luscious legs.
He turned and nearly stumbled over the carriage lamps. “These are a lost cause, now that I recklessly dashed them to the floor in my…er…enthusiasm, sweeting.”
“Good,” she said cheerily. “Now you can’t run off to London without me tonight.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, If the Viscount Falls