Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

Little streams of light blurred her vision, forcing her to blink rapidly. Her mind felt fuzzy as though a dense fog had settled to obscure all rational thought. All she could think of was how it felt to lie naked with a man.

But not just any man — with Lord Markham.

Good heavens.

Tiny beads of perspiration formed on her brow and she touched her fingers to her forehead as strange words unwittingly entered her thoughts.

But there was murder afoot. She was convinced of it. The thought gave her the strength to fight whatever weird and wonderful notion filled her head.

She was here for Caroline.

Nothing else mattered.

"I-I don't remember anything," she whispered, her breath coming short and quick as she dismissed the image of her eager fingers roaming over his muscular chest.

The muscle in his cheek twitched, and he jerked his head back with a look of utter bewilderment. Had no one ever refused his request? Knowing she had the power to knock the arrogance out of him, gave her the courage to be bold.

"Nor will I waste my time or imagination pandering to your warped sense of curiosity. If you're looking for someone to indulge your fantasies, I suggest you try …" Her mind went blank. Where do gentlemen find women to frolic with, other than at a ball? "Try the … the market."

It was the first thing that popped into her head. You could buy everything at the market, why not women?

Lord Markham's eyes widened. He screwed up his nose as though catching a whiff of a revolting smell. "The market?"

While her blood rushed through her veins at a rapid rate, it decided to take a detour past her cheeks, choosing her ears to convey her embarrassment. She could feel them swelling, throbbing and burning. If she were to touch them with wet fingers, they would most certainly sizzle.

"I am a viscount," he continued with an indolent wave. "I do not need to trawl the markets looking for someone to warm my bed, as well you know."

"Forgive me," she said, overcome with a desperate need to wipe the smirk off his face. "What else was I supposed to think when you have the mouth of a sewer rat?"

"This is an interesting game," he said showing no sign of offence. "I cannot recall the last time my mind was as stimulated as my—"

"I do not need to hear more of your vulgarity."

He put his hand on his chest and laughed. "My vulgarity? Have you cared to glance in the mirror? Your hair gives the impression that you've recently been tumbled. Your gown is far too small and at any moment, I am in danger of being blinded. Your lips are red and swollen from—"

"It is lip rouge," she said thrusting her hands on her hips. At least, she hoped that's what was in the silver cachou box. Their mother had often said such things were naught but selfish vanity to mask a weak mind. "And I have put on weight since I last wore this dress. There is nothing vulgar or lewd about any of it."

"Are you not a courtesan, Caroline? Do you not openly court vulgarity?"

Grace suppressed a gasp upon hearing her sister's name pass from his lips. She knew the depths of her sister's disgrace but saying it so openly made it seem

so crude, so terribly heartbreaking.

"I am a lady, my lord," she said unable to control the anger that infused her tone, "and I ask you to have a care. I have tolerated your uncouth manner for long enough."

When he smiled, she knew she had made a mistake.

Lord Markham bowed. "Please accept my humble apology." There was not even a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and she felt a shiver race down her spine as she suspected her worst fear was about to come to fruition. "I'm afraid your deception forced me to blunt."

"My … my deception? Now you're speaking in riddles, my lord."

"Despite wearing her necklace, I think we both know you're not Caroline Rosemond. The question is, who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

Chapter 2

Elliot watched the lady's lips move, but no words came out.

He had seen through her disguise almost instantly. Even a king's hosier with access to the finest silk stockings couldn't pad a corset sufficiently to make small breasts appear so deliciously soft and plump.