Rules of Passion (Greentree Sisters 2)

“Do you feel a physical attraction for me, Max?”

“You’re direct, aren’t you?” he retorted. “Yes, Marietta, I do feel a physical attraction for you.”

She smiled at him as if she was delighted with his answer.

He felt like smiling back.

Despite his present circumstances, Max had been born a gentleman. A gentleman was taught to revere gentlewomen as precious objects that must never be sullied by a man’s basest desires. Gentlewomen were destined to be wives, pure and perfect, raised upon the pedestal of Victorian womanhood. But Max was a man, too, and he needed to release those base desires. When he did so it was with the sort of women who inhabited Aphrodite’s Club, not gentlewomen, never gentlewomen.

But Miss Greentree confused him. On one hand she was a pure vision of womanhood, and on the other hand she was the sort of woman he felt he could happily and unrestrainedly take to his bed. The best of both worlds, in fact.

“I must say I am surprised, Max, and flattered. An entire night. Is that the way these bargains are normally sealed? A simple yes or no on my part? Or do you require a sampling first?”

A sampling? His imagination took flight, but he reined it back in. “In such circumstances I trust you to know your business and you trust me to know mine.”

Marietta Greentree thought about this. “Well, I know my business, but perhaps an entire night is too long for you, Max.”

The pert minx was questioning his credentials as a lover! He gave an angry laugh. “I am not an inexperienced boy, I’ll have you know.”

She widened her eyes as if she was impressed, but it was all show.

“Are you goading me, Miss Greentree?”

“Not at all, Max, but I do think I should test the truth of your claims.”

I’m flirting with him! I must be out of my mind, Marietta thought, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She didn’t want to. If I’m going to be a courtesan then I must practice, and Max seems so perfect… She wasn’t afraid of him, she realized with surprise. Perhaps it was because of the balloon ride, when he had protected her during the rough landing, but she felt as if Max would always keep her safe, whatever she said and did. It gave her a remarkable sense of freedom in her dealings with him.

“Very well,” he said, a determined glint in his eye, “you asked for it.”

Max reached out and took her hand in his. Slowly, watching her closely, he pressed his palm to hers and measured the length of her fingers against his. He noticed that her skin was fine and soft, a lady’s hand, and her nails were buffed to a rosy pink. Slowly, he lifted her hand as if it were some succulent dish, then bowed his head to inspect it until, with infinite care, he sucked her fingertips, one after the other.

He heard her catch her breath, the sound echoing about them in the vestibule. “I…what are you doing?”

“Sampling you.” He smiled and her eyes went slightly out of focus. Perhaps she was not as knowing as she pretended. He turned her palm this way and that, as if to read the lines that crossed it, and then he ran his finger lightly over the fleshy pad beneath her thumb. Marietta’s was especially pronounced.

Gently, Max blew warm breath upon that mound, and then he closed his mouth over her and bit her, very lightly, his teeth scraping her skin.

Marietta shuddered and gave a gasp. “What are you doing now?” she whispered, as if she were shocked and intrigued, both at the same time.

“This is your Mount of Venus,” he said, running his thumb over the fleshy pad again, his face very close to hers. Her pupils were large and dark as if they would swallow the blue, and her lips were a little apart, as if every word he spoke, every movement he made, was of tremendous importance to her. As if she hadn’t been in this situation many times before.

“My Mount of Venus?”

“It is a sign of the depth of your womanly passion.” He ran his thumb over her flesh again, caressingly, back and forth, and watched the effect it had on her. He couldn’t help a triumphant smile.

But she saw it, and her eyes narrowed. “And what does it say about me?” she demanded tartly.

“It tells me, Marietta, that you are a very passionate woman indeed,” he said, his voice soft and deep and seductive.

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and he took the opportunity to draw her closer, until they nearly touched, but not quite. He felt her trembling, and knew she was anticipating his next move. Good. His mouth hovered above hers, ready to taste, ready to take. How long since he had felt this degree of desire? His body was alive with need, almost out of control.

“The entire night won’t be long enough for what I want to do to you…Marietta,” Max said. And he meant every word.

“Lord Roseby, what are you doing with my daughter?”

They froze. From behind them came the rustle of Aphrodite’s black silk skirts, and from behind her came the sturdy tread of Dobson’s boots. Marietta withdrew her hand from Max’s, closing her fingers hard over the tingling in her palm, and trying not to notice the suddenly blank look of shock in his brown eyes.

“Lord Roseby?” she repeated, rather shocked herself. “You told me your name was Max!”