Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

She was still clinging to him, her mouth hot and moist against his throat as she planted kisses wherever she could. “Let me,” he whispered, his hands delving for the buttons on her dress.

“It opens at the back,” she gasped.

He spun her around and dealt with the fastenings, planting kisses on her nape, then down her spine as each inch of skin was revealed. She trembled and shook as if she were ill, as if she had a fever. Her gown sagged, slipping down her arms, and he helped it, releasing her wrists and hands from the cloth. He ran his hands around her, reaching to cup her breasts above her stays, and she groaned, leaning back against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her throat arched.

Her mouth was close enough for him to turn his head slightly and take it with his. She covered his hands with her own, pressing his palms against her flesh. He could feel the hard nubs of her nipples.

“My stays,” she breathed, her chest heaving. “I feel light-headed.”

“That’s me,” he teased, but began hastily to release her from the lacing. He tossed the garment onto the floor, and turning her in his arms, admired her naked breasts. “Oh yes,” he whispered, and bent his head so that he drew the nipples of first one breast and then the other into his mouth.

She was sensitive and she enjoyed it. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, before she decided that it was time for him to remove his clothing.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she told him breathlessly, wrenching at his coat.

“You’re right. Not a thing.”

“It’s a physical reaction. Any animal can experience it.”

“Lust, pure and simple.”

The bed was a four-poster with draperies drifting about it and a bright quilt. She pushed him down onto it and flung herself on top of him. Her mouth brushed his. She was still clothed from the waist down in her petticoats, and they formed a frothy barrier between him and what he wanted. He ran his hands up under them, cupping her bottom through her drawers.

She straddled him. He found the opening in her drawers, delving into the heat of her. She gasped and wriggled against him, her hair falling in thick, loose curls about her. “Beautiful,” he whispered. He stroked her slowly, caressing her toward completion. Francesca cried out, her body clenching, carried away with her pleasure in such a natural and unembarrassed way that he was charmed.

Here was truly a woman whose passions ruled her—if she would allow them to.

He kissed her, murmuring reassurance as he tenderly rolled her over. Her body was pliant and warm, her eyes half closed and sleepy as she gazed up at him, her hair a cloud about her. “Sebastian,” she whispered, with a catch in her voice. “Oh, Sebastian.”

He smiled, gently raising her skirts, and fitting himself between her thighs. He watched her face as he entered, pressing deep into her hot, slippery body. It was better than last time, and he had to fight to keep control of the urge to plunder her like the raiders of old.

She didn’t help, clutching him with her thighs and her arms, gasping and crying out. In the end the pleasure snuck up on him, like the storm in which they’d first met, leaving them both shuddering and exhausted.

Her eyes were wide open, gazing up at the canopy. She turned her head to inspect the furnishings and the wall hangings. “This is a beautiful room,” she murmured. “It’s like a robber baron’s cave.”

“I promise you, nothing here is stolen,” he said, but in a way that made her wonder differently. He reached out to smooth her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m glad you showed me why you came to see me, Francesca.”

She bit his knuckle, her eyes sparkling. “You are wicked, Sebastian, and you make me wicked, too.”

“Not wicked. I allow you to be free to be yourself.”

Her expression sobered and she sat up, her hair covering her shoulders and breasts. “It was true, you know. I am worried about my family. I have placed them in danger, and now it’s up to me to make them safe.”

“I’m already watching over you, Francesca…”

“I don’t want you to. At least not without payment. I want to hire you. I want to pay you.”

“No,” he said, and reached up to pull her down into his arms again. “This is payment enough.”

Francesca was caught in a web and Sebastian was the spider. Why hadn’t she resisted him? And that in itself was a laugh. Resist! She had done everything she could to have connection with him, behaved in a manner that was completely unlike her usual respectable self.

She shouldn’t have come here. Why didn’t she send Lil? Or better still, a note?

But she knew that it was easy to tell herself what she should and shouldn’t have done, now that she was sated, and the boiling, writhing emotions that Sebastian stirred within her had calmed to a millpond. Of course it wouldn’t last. Already she could feel little ripples forming beneath the surface.

Francesca began to dress, accepting his help without a word.

“Will you come again?” he asked her levelly, when she was clothed in everything but her straw bonnet.