Excerpt of As An Earl Desires by Lorraine Heath

Spellman strode from the room. Arch didn't think the man was at all satisfied with the outcome of his visit, but then it wasn't Arch's goal to please his solicitor. He was more interested in pleasing Camilla. He turned to her.

Her luscious lips were parted slightly, her brow knitted. She looked to be momentarily stunned as though she could hardly believe what had transpired. Then, like someone wiping a slate clean, she blanked her expression.

She rose from the chair, walked to the window, and gazed out on the garden. "I have always found Mr. Spellman to be a most unpleasant man. I thought you handled him admirably."

Arch sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. Ah, yes, he'd handled the man admirably. But how best to handle the countess was something he had yet to ascertain.

"I believe you have earned the right to spend the earl's money more so than I have."

"You are more generous than he ever was. I had fully expected you to take the larger of his two London homes when you first arrived. Instead you took the smaller residence. You are a constant source of amazement to me."

"I could say the same of you."

She shook her head as though she didn't wish to travel in the direction of his comment. "The old earl would have required an accounting and explanation for each purchase."

"I am not the old earl."

"So I am slowly coming to realize."

Slowly? He wondered what he could do to hasten the process along. In spite of his best intentions not to do so, he rose, crossed over until he stood only a hair's breadth away from her, inhaled her sweet rose perfume, and said with a low voice, "I wish I had known you before he ever possessed you."

Watching her delicate throat as she swallowed, he desperately wanted to press his lips against her fluttering pulse.

"You would not have liked me," she whispered.

"What was there not to like?"

"I was ignorant . . . poor . . ."

As though suddenly realizing that she was revealing too much, she managed to dart away from him without meeting his gaze. "I would die before I returned to the life of a commoner. I have established a place for myself among the Marlborough House Set and am in a position to achieve anything I want, and I want a good deal. While we search for a wife for you, I shall be searching for a duke for myself."

"You say that as though the most important aspect to a man is his title."

She arched a finely shaped eyebrow. "Because I believe that a man's title is all that matters."

He shook his head in denial of her words. "You can't mean that. What of love?"

"What of it? It has no power. It garners no attention when one walks into a ballroom. It doesn't provide servants, or fine clothes, or a large residence. It doesn't earn one favor with the queen. It doesn't keep you out of the street or the gutters. I have been a pauper and I have been a countess. Now I seek to be a duchess. As such, I shall garner respect--"

"You don’t need a title to have respect."

She scoffed. "How little you know. If it were possible, I would strive to be a queen. Then there would be no one more important than I."

"If you were to search for love, rather than rank, then to one man there would be no one more important than you."

"Spoken like a poet, rather than a realist."

He was not a man usually prone to violence, but he thought he'd find great satisfaction in plowing a fist into the old earl's face, because he'd managed to strip Camilla of her ability to dream, and Arch thought that might have been the old Sachse's cruelest legacy. "You have never known the reality of being my countess."

"And we both know that I never shall. Not that it matters. As I've said, I have goals. I shall help find you an agreeable wife, and in the process, I shall find myself a satisfactory duke."

"When searching for a wife for me, do not apply your standards in acquiring a duke. I want a woman I cannot live without, a woman whose death will cause my heart to break."

He stepped toward her. "I require a woman who makes me smile and causes me to laugh with abandon. A woman with whom I may be comfortable in silence, but whose voice will delight me and whose conversations will bring me joy. A woman who will stir my blood to the point of boiling. She must care deeply about all things and not shy away from revealing that she does so." Another step.

"She will be compared to fire, not ice. She will embrace all that life has to offer, not hold it at bay. She will love me with every fiber of her being, hope for a thousand years to be held within my embrace, and mourn my passing as though she truly regrets that I am no longer by her side."

"You have unrealistic expectations regarding a wife."

"I know of a queen who loved her prince exactly like that."

"I find that sort of love to be cruel. I think it better not to experience it. Then one never has to deal with the depth of loneliness and despair that comes from mourning so great a love."

"But then one must also live with never knowing so great a passion."

Before she could argue further or he could convince himself that he was making a terrible mistake, he took her within his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. She released a tiny, muffled squeak. Her arms were stiff, wedged between their bodies, but her lips were pliant, urging him on. But he had no desire to rush this moment that he'd waited months to experience.

She'd taunted him with her constant nearness, her faint rose fragrance teasing his senses, her sultry voice whispering etiquette and protocol near his ear, her warm breath wafting along his chin and neck. He'd watched her eat countless meals, studied the way she ran her tongue over her lips as though she feared wasting a bit of sauce. He'd reveled in the dreaminess that came to rest within her eyes whenever he read to her--and had imagined the emotions flitting across her face were for him rather than the story.

Slowly he deepened the kiss, exploring the confines of a mouth that was quick to issue a tart response with a voice cold enough to freeze water. But he found no chill now. Only heat. Shimmering between them as their tongues welcomed the dance of seduction.