The erotic beat of her pulse had grown with each stroke of his tongue. She was no more immune to his advances as he was to her pretense of aloofness. He took a breath and adjusted his vest. “Good evening, Mother,” he replied, walking to her. “Good evening, Landon.” She lifted her cheek. He took her hands and greeted her with a kiss. “Sherry?” “Please.” He stepped to the side so she could pass and take her seat in the blue upholstered chair in front of the marble-top coffee table. “Lady Juliet, a glass of sherry?” the dowager inquired. Landon watched his wife shake her head. “No, I am fine.” But she did not turn away from the window. He uncorked the decanter and poured a small sip into the tiny glass. Walking back to the dowager’s chair, he held out the offering to her. “Thank you, my dear.” His mother brought it to her lips and took a delicate sip. “Excellent,” she purred and rested the glass upon the arm of the chair. “Lady Juliet, won’t you come and sit down?”
