The first time he invited her back to his flat for a drink after a cocktail party to celebrate the New Year, she took advantage of his inebriated state. He flopped on to the sofa next to her, and she turned toward him, straddling his lap and pinning him down. Covering his mouth with hers, he felt he couldn't breathe. Although way out of his comfort zone, being pounced on by an eighteen-year-old siren with the sexual appetite of a tigress, resistance was futile. If he had any doubts about the morality of his seduction, Elizabeth had no intention of giving him any time to think about it. In the foggy waking moments of his hangover the following day, he dismissed what had happened between them for what it was, drunk sex. It would never happen again. He only had a few weeks left in London, and he would make sure he kept a low profile.
In this bite-size piece of my first novel, Defining Moments, Elizabeth gets closer to finding herself a lawful wedded bank account. London’s bush telegraph had been rife about the demise of Fergus’s father and his untimely death on the hunting field. A higher frequency buzz was also being circulated at certain social gatherings reporting that despite the Grant's of Silkwoods not being listed in either Burkes or Debrett’s, Fergus was one of the most eligible bachelors around.