As he thought. Musky, powerful, and sexy as all Hades if her instincts were attuned to it.
Chapter 10
Portia’s mind was all spinning confusion. During the auction she’d been prepared for the worst. Bryght’s voice had unbalanced her so she had not known what to think, but when she’d realized Fort was there, she’d been sure of rescue.
But it had been Bryght who’d claimed her, and he had not freed her but brought her to this disgusting room.
Now they seemed to be involved in wagers. If she had it right, she’d get the ridiculous sum of twelve hundred guineas if she could act as if she wanted Bryght Malloren.
And she’d be free of him forever if she could do it by pure acting, without wanting him at all.
She tried to tell herself that would be easy, but she wasn’t in the habit of deceiving herself. It was because he could stir desire in her that she needed so badly to escape London. He’d stirred wild desire in her in broad daylight and fully clothed. Now, half naked in the flickering lights he was a creature of her darkest dreams.
And surely more wicked, she reminded herself. After all, he was here in a brothel by choice. He clearly knew all sorts of lewd skills. And he was, of course, a gamester. He was here with her because of a wager.
She watched him warily. He was coming back toward the bed with a vial, tipping it onto his finger….
He smiled, and before she could avoid it, touched his finger just below her nose so that a tendril of perfume crept into her. She could not identify the smells in it but it was similar to the incense in the air, and it was wicked.
She scrubbed at the tainted spot, but the smell could not be banished.
Pretend, but don’t surrender,she reminded herself.
She watched his every move. She was beginning to understand what he meant when he said that she did not even know the rules of this game of chance, but surely she could control her own responses.
Bare-chested, his dark hair loose to his shoulders, his beauty enriched by the wildness of it, he smiled at her. “Don’t look so terrified, Hippolyta. You’re going to love every moment of this.”
She eased away from him. She didn’t want to love every moment of this. She wanted to pretend to surrender and have it over with.
As long as he did not accept that surrender.
What if it were a trick? What if when he persuaded her to say she wanted him, he took the permission she gave?
He said to trust him, but she didn’t.
Only a fool would trust a rake like Bryght Malloren.
She expected him to cover her again, using his size and heat to melt her senses, but he disconcerted her by sitting cross-legged on the bed by her feet. He grasped one ankle to pull her slightly closer. She let out an involuntary squeak and wriggled her skirts into decency.
He poured oil onto his hands, put down the vial, then began to work the oil into her right foot. He stretched and stroked it, giving each toe special, delicate attention, running his thumbs up her instep so her foot arched to him all by itself. A cloud of the spicy, sultry perfume crept up her body, accompanied by the softening pleasure of his touch.
Oh dear.
She tried to pull her foot away. “What are you doing?”
His grip was too tight. “Exploring you,” he said, resting her heel on his thigh, concentrating on her toes, his dark hair falling forward to conceal his face.
By heaven, but he was beautiful….
No, Portia!
He worked meticulously from one toe to the next. “Before we are finished, my Amazon, I intend to know every inch of you, and pleasure most of them.”
Portia shivered in earnest. “I don’t like this.”
He looked up, shadowed and mysterious, magnificent as the ceiling gods, and as powerful. “Liar.” His voice was soft and deep as the night sky. “With me you will find the pleasures from your most secret, heated dreams, and you will admit the truth—that you are mad for me.”
He wasn’t acting. “Never.”
