The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3) - Page 52

After a brief hesitation, she wrapped nervous fingers around his shaft. “It would be my pleasure.” With care, she wiped the cloth over the length of him. “Did you ask Cornell about his connection to Lord Martin?”

Fabian struggled to think as she cleaned and massaged him. “Revenge is his motive. Lady Cornell believes she’s in love with your brother and … oh, that feels so good.”

“It is as I suspected then.”

“Indeed. But you never need think of it again. You’re free.”

“And that was your reason for leaving me?” Both hands gripped his cock now. She eased slowly back and forth until all rational thoughts left him.

“I’ll not have you living in fear. By now—” A groan left his lips. “You must know I would do anything for you.” He closed his eyes and relished the sensation of warm fingers gliding up and down in a sweet rhythm. “Now, perhaps you should remove your clothes, so I may see what I’ve missed these last few days.”

“Four days,” she corrected. She stood before him and stripped slowly, purely as a means to torment him for his long absence.

Fabian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “Tell me you want me, Lilly. Tell me I’m forgiven for bringing you here.”

Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and she smiled. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything my entire life. And I want to thank you for bringing me here.”

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He loved the feel of her soft mouth. He loved the way her pliant body moved so sensually against his. Most of all he loved … he loved her.

Chapter Fifteen

The warm water soothed Fabian’s tired bones. Draping his legs over the end of the copper tub, he immersed his head and shoulders. It had crossed his mind to have his wife wash him again this morning. But they’d spent the night becoming better acquainted. He’d explored every uncharted inch of her body, discovered every sensitive spot, mapped a perfect route to the exotic island of pleasure.

He closed his eyes as the water hummed in his ears like the sea’s heartbeat. Ordinarily, the relaxing rhythm calmed him and drowned out all fearful thoughts of Estelle, morbid thoughts that pushed to the fore during moments of solitude. But a soul-deep contentment filled his chest. One attributed to the beautiful woman asleep in his bed. If marriage to the woman he’d thought lost to him was possible, so was the prospect of finding Estelle.

A dark shadow passed over his closed lids. It moved back and forth before hovering overhead. A light breeze tickled his cheek, and his heart skipped a beat as he pictured Lillian standing over him, gazing upon his naked body.

Fabian opened his eyes slowly, eager to savour the sight of her full lips and mussed hair. Perhaps he might catch her peeking in places she dared not look. But unless his wife had grown in a thick red beard during the night, something was dreadfully wrong with his imagined scene.

“Good God, Mackenzie,” Fabian whispered through gritted teeth, his face mere inches from the Scot. He sat up, forcing Mackenzie to straighten.

“Och, praise be. I thought you were dead.”

“Keep your voice down else you’ll wake Lady Ravenscroft.” Fabian glanced at the closed curtains on the four-poster bed. “Is there something wrong?”

Mackenzie raised the bucket in his hand. “You asked for more hot water, my lord.”

“So I did. Leave it here, and I shall see to it myself.”

Mackenzie nodded and placed the bucket on the floor. With a grimace, he tiptoed backwards as though it made his clunky steps quieter.

No sooner had the door closed than the curtains twitched. Lillian poked her head out between the green velvet panels. “So, you’re a man who enjoys an early morning soak?”

Early morning? It was almost twelve. “I’m a man who enjoys many of life’s pleasures.”

“Did I not do a thorough job last night?”

Fabian couldn’t stop a grin forming. “The answer depends upon whether we’re talking about bathing.”

“What else would we be talking about?” Her tone held a seductive lilt.

“I couldn’t possibly say.” He swished the water over his chest just to tease her. “But I am in need of your expert assistance.”

Lillian raised a coy brow. “What, now?”

“The water’s cold and needs heating up.”

One slim ankle appeared through the gap in the curtain, followed by a soft creamy-white thigh. Her gaze darted nervously from the tub to the door.

Tags: Adele Clee Lost Ladies of London Romance
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