Promise of Pleasure by Cheryl Holt

past, he’d driven various women to incredible frenzies of dislike, so he recognized the signs.
    She wasn’t anywhere close.
    He reached out and clasped her wrist.
    “I want to kiss you again.”
    “You do? You still want to?”
    “Yes. Let’s lie down.”
    He flopped onto the mattress and pulled her down with him, and she came more willingly than he might have predicted.
    He grinned.
    “Do you know what I think?” he asked.
    “What?”
    “I think you like me a bit more than you care to admit.”
    “And I think that you like me a tad more than you should.”
    “It’s entirely possible,” he conceded.
    At the prospect, she appeared miserable, and he was very annoyed. Didn’t she comprehend that females all over the kingdom would give their right arms to be in her shoes?
    She ought to be smiling! She ought to be glad!
    “Don’t look so morose,” he complained.
    “How should I look?”
    “Ecstatic! Delighted!”
    “Why should I be?”
    “Because you have me in your bed.”
    She chuckled, then sighed. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
    “No. I’ll be here for a whole month. Would you have me die of boredom?”
    “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
    “No, we wouldn’t. I demand that you entertain me whenever you have the opportunity.”
    She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “We’re courting disaster. What if Victoria catches you? Or Felicity? I’d be in so much trouble.”
    “I’d protect you,” he lied.
    During his amorous pursuits, he wasn’t in the habit of practicing veracity, and he saw no reason to start.
    “You’re aware of how Felicity treats me,” she mentioned.
    “She’s a total shrew.”
    “Yes, she is, and how you could consider marrying her is beyond me.”
    “If you could see the balance in my bank account, you’d understand.”
    “There are some things in this world that are more important than money.”
    “I can’t name any.”
    Their discussion irked him. He wasn’t worried about Victoria or Felicity, for he never fretted over consequences. If he stumbled on something he liked, something he wanted, he grabbed for it, and he wouldn’t waste time commiserating over every probable catastrophe.
    “I won’t listen to your predictions of calamity,” he said.
    “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
    “You’re being absurd. No one will ever know that we’ve been involved.”
    “How can you guarantee such an outcome? Are you a sorcerer?”
    “Yes, I am. Let me show you some of my best magic.”
    He came over her, his body pressing her into the mattress, his lips mere inches from her own. As he gazed at her, his heart did the strangest flip-flop.
    She made him wish he didn’t have to marry Felicity. She made him wish he was a different sort of person, one who was kind and generous and honest. Gad, she made him wish he could wed her instead of her unbearable half sister.
    The yearnings were so peculiar—and so foreign to his character—that he wondered if he wasn’t coming down with an ague.
    He kissed her, and he was thrilled to find that she joined in with an equal amount of vigor. Despite her maidenly protests, she wasn’t immune to his many charms.
    He laced his fingers through her hair, the lengthy tresses tumbling over her shoulders. His hands descended to her breasts, and he massaged them until she began to squirm and writhe, but as he eased her skirt up her legs, he realized that he was awfully sleepy.
    He slid onto his side and yawned in her face.
    Drowsiness was quickly setting in, and it occurred to him that she must have mixed a drug into the wine, after all. Why would she have? And what could it have been?
    He certainly hoped it wasn’t fatal! He’d hate to perish before he had the chance to have sex with her.
    “What’s the matter?” she anxiously asked. “Are you ill?”
    “No. I’m tired.”
    “Tired! Why?”
    “What did you put in the wine?”
    “The wine! Oh no!”
    His limbs were heavy as anvils,