Excerpt: One Night with an Earl by Tina Gabrielle

Oliver did his best not only to avoid his brother’s friends, but their haunts—the clubs, gaming hells,
theaters, private parties which lasted until dawn, and bordellos with an endless stream of smooth-
speaking courtesans.
He didn’t hold it against his brother’s friends. They could have their fun tonight. He just wanted
nothing to do with the Silver Chalice.
But if he couldn’t avoid tonight, he at least could drink himself into a stupor, then stumble to his
home and forget the evening.
A flash of red in the doorway caught his eye. A woman in a red silk dress with a half mask entered
the salon. He nearly dropped the fine whisky.
She was quite simply stunning. Dark curls were artfully piled upon her head, and a fat lock curled
around her chin to frame a stunningly lovely face. Her complexion was dusky, a shade darker than
that of most English ladies. The tight dress was designed to display her curves to perfection. A pearl
clasp between her breasts drew a man’s eye to the abundance of creamy skin rounded enticingly
above her bodice. A slit in the skirt revealed one shapely, silk-clad leg as she walked.
She had the type of mouth that made a man think of carnal thoughts and a desire to suck those
plump, pink lips. She was tall for a woman and would just reach his chin and fit nicely against him.
Something about her was different from the other women in the room, delectably different. She
appeared hesitant, yet confident, a fascinating contradiction of virginal innocence wrapped in a
temptress’s body.
His reaction was swift. The thudding of his heart drowned out the coarse conversation in the room.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.
Across the room, their eyes met and held, and his cock took notice.
“Good evening, my lords.” Her graceful curtsy revealed the tops of her breasts.
Her voice was not overly honey-sweet and false like the other women, but smooth and smoky, like
fine mulled wine. It made him want to hear that voice low and husky as he unbuttoned the red silk to
expose more of her skin. She’d be warm, welcoming, and bewitching, just what he needed to forget
his burdens.
God, what was he thinking? He didn’t need a distraction, no matter how lovely.
Then she took a step forward in his direction, then another. All rational thought fled.
Hell, yes.
Others noticed her, too.
“What do we have here?” the Viscount Sutherland asked.
The Earl of Moore sneered. “Sod off. I saw her first.” Of the group, Oliver liked Moore the least.
Selfish and crude, he was often the group’s ringleader.
“You have the blonde,” Sutherland protested.

“Why fight? There’s plenty to go around,” the Marquess of Elton said. Well into his cups, with one of
the women sprawled across his lap, his bride was clearly not on his mind.
All the while, the lady in red glided toward the back of the room, toward him. Oliver willed it with all
his might. Maybe it was the whisky, but he was agreeable, no matter what she’d offered. God, what
was wrong with him?
Moore stumbled to his feet, seeming not to care that his chair crashed to the floor. Alcohol wafted
from his pores. Oliver thought Moore intended to challenge his friends, but instead, he grasped the
woman’s arm as she moved past him.
“Just what I’ve been waiting for. We’re going to have a grand time together,” Moore said.
She was closer now. Behind the mask, the woman’s eyes widened, and the hazel color fascinated
Oliver. She didn’t want Moore. It was clear in the stiffening of her spine, the tension in her shoulders,
the parting of her lips. Oliver knew even before she attempted to tug her arm free to speak.
“Not this evening, my lord,” she said.
“Why not?”
Like a dog with a tasty bone, Moore was as relentless as he was intoxicated. His fingers tightened
on the woman’s arm, enough to cause a slight gasp of pain from her, and that was all it took for
Oliver to intervene. He would never force a woman, and he’d be damned if he would allow another to
do so.
He stood and strode to Moore. “She’s mine for the evening.”