Harriet groaned and pressed back as if eager for him to resume his pace. He thrust again. And again. And each time she met him, writhing enticingly beneath him. He could feel the excitement building inside her, feel the tremors of her as he thrust deeply. He fought for control, but the more he fought, the more she drew him onward. Finally, with a gasp, she said his name and broke his tenuous control. She swept him with her over the edge of passion and beyond.

Chapter 24

If we go to all of this trouble just to find Chase snuggled between the sheets with a woman, I will personally haul him outside and beat him to within an inch of his life.

Marcus St. John, the Marquis of Treymount, to his brother, Mr. Devon St. John, as they climbed into the Treymount coach

Chase collapsed, cradling Harriet in his arms as he fought for breath, for the ability even to think. In all of his days, he’d never experienced such a sensuous woman. Never.

He pressed a kiss on her neck and then turned her so that she faced him. She had her eyes tightly clenched, her breath ragged between her lips.

“Harriet?” he whispered against her bare skin.

A shiver trembled across her.

Chase took her hand and threaded her fingers with his, then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You are magnificent.”

Her eyes cracked open at that and to his relief, a faint smile touched the corners of her lips.

He smiled and pressed another kiss to the spot below her ear. “And I think I lo—” He stopped.

Had he almost said—it was impossible! Why the hell had he almost said that?

She blinked, her eyes now wide open. “What…what did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said hastily. He pushed himself upright and raked a hand through his hair, unwilling to admit how shaken he was that he’d almost let such a thing slip. “I was going to say that I…love the way you kiss.”

She arched a brow in disbelief. “My kisses are nothing special.”

“Oh yes, they are.” He smoothed the hair from her forehead, noting how the sun had kissed her cheeks with even more freckles. He traced a path from freckle to freckle with the tip of his finger. It would soon be time for him to leave, and yet here Harriet would be, fighting to make Garrett Park a working, living estate for her brothers and sisters. “I worry about you.”

“Me? Why on earth would you worry about me?”

“You work too hard.”

Her smile disappeared. “I don’t work any harder than the others. Chase, don’t make me out to be a saint. I’m afflicted with far too many faults to be considered anything other than human.”

“What faults do you have?”

She snorted. “Well, let’s see. I’m short-tempered. I have a dislike for doing anything whatsoever inside the house; Mother despaired of my watercolors and embroidery years ago. Oh and…” She peered up at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m apparently not a woman of virtue, either.”