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“If you don't watch yourself, you'll be bound to turn yourself into a gentleman. With or without my help." Closing his eyes for a moment, Rothbury inhaled her light lemony scent. At this moment there was nothing in the world he wanted more than for every single guest in this ballroom to disappear so that he could pull Charlotte against him, rip off that silly bonnet, and sink his hands into her hair while sinking his mouth onto her throat. Christ, why did she have to smell so damn good? Silently, he cursed himself for not realizing just who exactly it was that he had caught in the library when he had her squirming beneath him. Damn, he would have relished the moment, however brief it would have been, had he known it was Charlotte. He did concede, however, that it was a good thing for her that he hadn't known it was Charlotte writhing beneath him at the time. He would have been decidedly, and happily, obliged to expound, in lavish detail, upon the intricacies of an authentic kiss. "Oh, I doubt I'll turn into a gentleman anytime soon," he drawled from behind her, "if at all.” — Olivia Parker