Prologue
London, March 1810
The silken bonds bit into his wrists with exquisite pressure, heightening the sense of pleasure. A willing captive, Damien Sinclair lay defenseless, his bare arms fastened to the bedposts with scarves of scarlet silk.
He could see his reflection in the gilt-framed mirror overhead: his naked, muscled body juxtaposed against the snowy sheets; the full, hard length of his arousal jutting from the curling ebony hair of his groin.
His tormentor, the lovely Elise Swann, stood over him, clad in only the sheerest of muslin negligees, if one didn’t count the emerald bracelet he’d presented her as the opening gambit of their game of seduction. The green stones adorning her wrist glittered in the nickering dance of candle flame, while the rouged nipples of her lush breasts peeked daringly through the delicate fabric, with a lasciviousness calculated to stir the passions of the most jaded connoisseur.
London’s premiere actress, dubbed the Silver Swann because of her silver-blond hair, was staging a magnificent performance. They both understood this was an audition for the post of his mistress. The enchanting Swann meant to persuade him to take her into keeping.
“Now that you hold me in your power,” Damien commented, his tone a teasing murmur, “I trust you intend to have your wicked way with me?”
“Indeed, I do, my lord. I rather like having you at my mercy,” she said in the low, musical voice that could hold theatrical audiences enthralled.
“I am all attention, sweeting.”
From atop the bedside table, she picked up a riding crop and raked his chest lightly with the tip. Damien raised a curious eyebrow, wondering if the actress mistakenly assumed she must resort to singular methods to arouse a man of his jaded lusts.
In his youth he had led a life of pleasure and license. Yet despite his scandalous reputation, despite the fact that he still sought out novel experiences upon occasion, he hadn’t reached the point where he needed perversions to gratify his physical whims. His sexual appetites were strong and immediate, especially with a beautiful woman.
And the Silver Swann was quite beautiful. Apparently she was perceptive as well, for she hesitated when she met his inquiring gaze.
“I suppose,” she observed thoughtfully, “there is no need to exercise force to stimulate you further. You are aroused enough as it is. You are enormous.”
In the bantering spirit of their game, he returned a charming grin. “Does my size dismay you?”
Her red lips curved upward as she gave a laugh. “On the contrary, my lord.”
With a nod of his head, he indicated the whip. “I’ve always considered pain overrated as an aphrodisiac. Surely you can be more inventive, pet.”
“Perhaps I can.”
She let the crop fall to the carpet and put a finger to her luscious lower lip, musing aloud. “Let me think. A man whose lovemaking prowess is legend… A devilish rogue who is said to make women weep for joy. How can such a magnificent lover be entertained?”
Slowly she unfastened the clasp of the bracelet at her wrist. With a sly smile, she draped the links over his jutting arousal and gently refastened the clasp. His blatantly rigid erection swelled further.
The hard stones felt cool against his heated flesh. Damien shuddered at the sensation, while smiling in acknowledgment of her resourcefulness.
“Is this inventive enough for you, my wicked Lord Sin?”