The viscount's gaze skewered her like a rapier as he took the decision out of her hands.
“The show is over, madam--I’ve entertained you long enough.”
His deep voice reached her across the windy bluff, affecting her as if he stood close beside her, his hand encircling her wrist and pulling her forward, the rich timbre resonating through her, as intoxicating as sherry. Her hunger flared.
Emma took a gulp of salt-tinged air and emerged from concealment to face him.
“We meet again, Miss Whiteside.”
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