Sapphire

“Your age?” He kissed her hand. “You’re twice as beautiful as a woman half your age.”

“And how do you know my age?” she asked, lifting a brow.

He smiled. “I can guess.”

She smiled in return. “You can guess, but I’ll not tell. Now I really must go, but I’ll come back Saturday night. I promise.” She started to get up but he pulled her back.

“I’ve something to tell you. Something I think will please you. Will you stay long enough to hear?”

“What do you want to tell me? Lord Wessex has come to his senses and agreed to give my Sapphire an audience?” She lifted one finger, touching it to his nose. “Better yet, he has denounced the Countess of Wessex, declared Sapphire’s mother to be the true wife of Edward and eagerly awaits the opportunity to acknowledge Sapphire amidst all of London society?”

He looked down at the bed. “It’s not that good, but it is more realistic, Lucia darling.”

She softened and reached out to stroke his cheek, which at this hour was rough with stubble. “Do tell.”

“I saw Lord Wessex today on another matter, and while we were conversing, I brought up Sapphire.”

Lucia stood up abruptly. “You know Lord Wessex personally and you didn’t tell me?”

“You know very well a barrister does not discuss his clients with others.”

She scowled. “I’m not others, Jessup. You just made passionate love to me.” With a jerk, she tightened the silk tie on her robe. “You just claimed you loved me and now you tell me that Lord Wessex has been a client of yours and you failed to tell me?”

Jessup leaned against the headboard, readjusting his pillows. “Do you want to hear or not?”

She studied him for a moment. He had more spine than she had thought. Most men, after making love to her, could easily be crushed, certainly more easily manipulated. “Tell me.”

“Sit down.” He patted the bed.

She reluctantly complied with his request but only sat on the edge, her arms still crossed over her chest. “I’m listening.”

“While Lord Wessex does not believe there is truth to Sapphire’s claim—”

“Ho

w would he know? An American, just come—”

“Are you going to let me finish or not, dear?”

Lucia pressed her lips together and nodded.

Jessup cleared his throat and began again. “While Lord Wessex does not believe there is reason to think her claim to be true, he is willing to allow me to look into the matter.”

“Jessup, that’s superb!” Lucia leaned forward, throwing her arms around him. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

He smoothed her hair tenderly and brought his lips across hers. “Because you wouldn’t give me a chance, love.”

“What a silly man,” Lucia murmured, covering his face with kisses. “You really should pay me no mind and speak up.” She drew her mouth to his and their kiss deepened.

When she pulled away, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest, she looked up at him through her lashes. “Would you like me to stay a little longer?” she whispered, slipping her hand under the coverlet to stroke his bare thigh.

“Just a little longer,” he answered, a twinkle in his eyes as he slid her hand farther up. “And maybe I’ll have something else for you….”

“Don’t go,” Clarabelle begged, sitting up on her knees on the four-poster bed, drawing the coverlet over her pert, bare breasts.

“Not so soon,” Clarissa, her twin sister chimed in, coming to her knees beside Clarabelle. Like Clarabelle, she had waist-length red hair that fell in thick curls down her back, but unlike her sister, she had a mole to the right of her sensuous mouth, allowing him to tell them apart.

Blake watched a ringlet of hair fall at Clarissa’s pale nipple and he contemplated their request. He’d been in their apartment for hours and had certainly enjoyed the pleasure of them both, but still, there was something unsatisfying about them, separate or together. They had relieved his tensions in several creative ways, but he still found himself restless, thinking of another redhead while he made love to the two in his arms.