4
Martin sat in a chair in the library, turning the pages of the book Lavinia had brought with her, but his mind was miles away. What on earth had possessed him to bring her home? Yes, he’d kept his other mistresses here, which he knew was unusual, but the daughter of his worst enemy? He should have kept her far away, some little cottage all alone to suffer. But she was lovely, and fiery, and…he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
He’d wanted to destroy Hartwell, throw him out on his ear. But when Lavinia, a daughter he had not known existed, had rushed into the room, his heart had stopped in his chest. When he saw her pale creamy skin, hazel eyes that looked like chocolate coated with honey, and those pale pink lips parted in surprise, he had been lost. Lost in fantasies of kissing
