Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

She glanced about her. “I can’t see anyone.”

Had she really said that? She must have, for the next moment he was pulling her into his arms and kissing her as if he wanted to gobble her up.

It had been too long since the last time they were together in his rooms. Wrapped in his arms, she was drowning in the feel of him, the scent of him, the taste of him. He had introduced her to the world of sensuality, and now she never wanted to leave it.

“Am I to call you my lord now whenever I want something from you?” she asked huskily.

“Yes. ‘Kiss me, my lord,’ ‘Caress me, my lord,’ ‘My lord, place your engine of delight within my—’”

“You are outrageous!” She laughed, tilting her head to look at him. She was flirting, urging him on, and she couldn’t seem to help it. She felt wild and out of control. She felt alive.

“The portrait in my rooms in Half Moon Street was of my grandmother,” he said, tracing the shape of her mouth with his finger.

“Oh?” It seemed an odd topic of conversation in the circumstances. She turned her face, rubbing her cheek against his knuckles.

“She was a wild one, so I’ve been told. She led my grandfather a merry dance, but she lived a life to remember. A full life. And never regretted a minute of it.”

“Is that what you plan to do?” She kissed the side of his jaw, running her tongue over his smoothly shaven skin.

He shuddered and held her closer, his breath warm as it stirred her ringlets. “I am pointing out to you how important it is to live your life to the full, Francesca.”

“And you think I haven’t, my lord?”

“I think you’re afraid to, Miss Greentree.”

He thought she was afraid! Francesca felt an insane urge to show him just how unafraid she could be. He was throwing down a dare, and she had never been able to resist a dare.

There was a fountain playing through the shrubs and trees, its waters bubbling and splashing. As they drew closer, she could see that the fountain itself was nicely encircled by closely clipped hedges, while a couple of seats made it a pleasant place to sit and reflect. There was even a gate that led into the area.

No one else was about, and the lanterns that illuminated other areas of the garden had not been strung here. Perfect, Francesca thought as she strolled toward it, Sebastian following.

She heard him click the gate shut, and reached up to try to unfasten the back of her gown, but it was too difficult. Frustrated, she presented her back to him, giving him a helpless glance over her shoulder. “Will you undress me?”

“Damn and blast it, Francesca, what a question,” he groaned, running his hands over her bare shoulders and down her arms. He kissed her nape, his lips trailing over her sensitive skin, making her shiver. “Francesca, if someone—”

“There’s no one here, Sebastian. You said I was afraid of living, and I want to show you I’m not.”

“You don’t need to undress to do that,” he retorted, his mouth against her bare skin. He turned her about, hot gaze traveling over the opulent swell of her breasts. He ran his fingertip along the edge of her gown, dipping into her cleavage. “We can live as much as you like without stripping ourselves naked to the elements.”

“Coward,” she whispered.

His eyes gleamed as he swooped to her mouth, his lips hovering just above it. “There will come a time when you will regret saying that,” he growled, “but not tonight, my Francesca.”

He rested his hands on her narrow waist. With a glance behind him at the rustic bench, he promptly sat down. She stood before him, with her hands on his shoulders and her eyes shining. “What now?” she said. He reached down and began to draw up her skirts, as he’d done the last time, and slipped his hands beneath them.

She could feel his warm palms sliding up over her stockings, pausing at the garters just above her knees, and then closing on the bare flesh of her thighs. His eyes widened in amazement, and she almost laughed aloud. “You are not wearing drawers,” he said, and swallowed.

“I know. Shocking, is it not? I wondered what it would feel like.” She bent down and ran her fingers over the hard ridge of his cock. “May I inspect your ‘engine of delight,’ my lord?”

He caught his breath, but he didn’t stop her. She could see him watching her, his eyes dark beneath his half-lowered lids.

Her fingers found the fastenings and began to undo each button. She felt powerful and sensual, and suddenly it occurred to her that this was what it was like to be a courtesan, giving a man pleasure, and herself as well. But she also knew this was different, because the man she was touching was Sebastian, and it was more than pleasure she was giving him.

I love him.

He had taken her hands in his and was urging her forward. Francesca stepped closer, bemused, dizzy with need, and her skirts frothed over his black evening trousers. He lifted her, helping her to arrange herself on his lap, her thighs straddling his. The tip of his cock brushed her, hard against her softness, and they both went still.

“Gently brought up ladies wear drawers,” he said, his voice low and deep. He couldn’t seem to let the subject go.