Excerpt of One Wild Winter's Eve by Anne Barton

She was tired of being dismissed, deserted, and forgotten. Years
might have passed, but the ache in her chest was a permanent,
palpable thing. Mama was missing; Papa was dead. And now Charles was
here, in the flesh, exposing all the hurt and the grief once again.

She couldn’t walk away.

“Why do you want me to leave, Charles? Does it make you uncomfortable
that the girl who once visited you in the stables has made an
appearance in your new life?”

“No.” His brows, several shades darker than his golden hair, drew
together. It was a glimpse of the old Charles–the one who would
sooner die than hurt her, the one who looked at her with undisguised
longing. “I heard some of the staff in the hallway. I didn’t think
you’d want to be discovered here. With me.”

Well, that did make sense…but wait. As of this moment, she was
through with giving people the benefit of the doubt. Especially the
ones who’d let her down.

“If you are truly concerned for my reputation,” she said, “why don’t
you leave? It’s what a gentleman would do.”

She regretted the words the moment she’d uttered them. She’d only
meant to point out that his behavior was less than gallant, not to
belittle his station or to wound his pride.

Throwing off the mask of polite behavior, he leaned toward her and
curled his mouth into a wicked smile.

“You should know, Rose, that I’m no gentleman.”

His breath was a caress on her neck, his words a heady elixir. This
was the closest he’d ever come to flirting with her. And she had to
admit…she liked it. So much so, that she almost forgot he had caught
her brazenly riffling through the contents of his employer’s desk
drawer.

But the suspicion in his beautiful brown eyes told her that he hadn’t
forgotten.

“What were you really doing in here?” His whispered question invited
her confidences and promised understanding.

But this was not the Charles she’d known before–predictable, solid,
and safe. As his heavy-lidded gaze shifted over her, her pulse leaped
in her throat, confirming her thoughts. There was nothing safe about
him.

“Excuse me, I must go.” Just as she started to sweep past him,
footsteps sounded in the hall. Charles grasped her upper arm, pulled
her away from the desk, and almost carried her to the shadowed area
between the large open door and a bookcase. He pressed her back
against the shelves and held a calloused finger to her lips.

Rose’s whole body tingled.

Charles stood very close, his torso a mere inch from Rose’s. It was
too dark to see his face–to see anything, really–but somehow she felt
the intensity of his gaze upon her, heating her skin. The air fairly
crackled around them. And his finger still rested on her lips.

It was funny how one little transgression led to another. Her heart
pounded in her chest from fear, desire, and delight at her own
daring. No one would believe that the always obedient and demure Rose
was hiding in the shadows of Lady Yardley’s drawing room. With a man.
The same virile, breathtakingly handsome man whom she’d once believed
she loved. The man she’d never been quite able to forget.