When he released her mouth to trail hot kisses around her cheeks, her ears, her neck, her shoulders, she kissed him back, kissed and tasted every piece of delicious skin that passed her lips.
He nibbled her ear lobe. “Your hips. Move your hips.”
Portia was about to say she didn’t know how, when he stroked swiftly over her breasts and her hips moved of their own accord. She exaggerated it, telling herself that it was acting, but she knew it wasn’t.
She ached inside and her body sought relief of that ache like a flower seeking the sun.
She who had never known a man, knew what could be, what should be. If it hadn’t been for the watchers, she would have demanded it here, now, with no regard for virtue or morality.
“Yes, my beautiful one. Dance for me, show me that you want the gift of Venus….”
And Portia danced. Her whole body moved to the rhythm of his touch. Her heart thundered, and she breathed as in the wildest, whirling jig….
“You want me, little one. Yes?”
“Yes!” she gasped. “Oh, yes!”
“Bravo,” he murmured, and then was gone.
Portia came suddenly to sanity and watched in despairing astonishment as he paraded around the bed, bowing to the unseen audience. Dimly, she even heard applause.
Her body was still in ferment, stirred almost to madness by his skills, but her emotion was pure rage. She’d be damned if she’d let Bryght Malloren have it all his own way.
She sat up and putting on a girlish voice, cried, “My lord! Please! Do not desert me! Give me all of you!”
He turned, surprised admiration flickering in his eyes. “You’re too young, sweeting. Come back in a year or two and I’ll give you the next lesson.”
“No!”she wailed, getting well into her part. “You cannot be so cruel! You’ve set a fire burning in me and it must be quenched!”
With alarm, she discovered that she no longer knew what was acting and what was true.
He set one knee on the bed and leaned close to her. “Don’t tempt fortune, little one. I will make you burn again, my reckless Hippolyta and quench the flames, too. But not just yet.”
It was a promise, and Portia moved back.
Immediately, his hand slid around her neck, restraining her just inches away. “I won my bet, didn’t I?”
She wanted to say no, but honesty would not let her. “It will do you no good. I still won’t be your mistress.”
“Some fates cannot be avoided,petite.Remember that.” He released her and moved away.
Portia resolved to leave London on the morrow. At crack of dawn. On foot if necessary. With Fort here, the debt would soon be settled.
Fort!
Fort must have recognized her in order to have entered the bidding. How was she ever to face him? But she must face him in order to sort out Oliver’s problems and get them both out of the evil entanglements of London before it was too late.
Portia looked quickly at Bryght, who was putting on his clothes again. Had he meant it when he said he’d give her the twelve hundred guineas? It was an enormous sum, but would make all the difference. Even if Fort wouldn’t help, the bank would surely take a mortgage for the remainder of the debt. It would be much easier to pay it off, too.
She almost felt she should be grateful. Bryght had rescued her from worse men while leaving her virtue intact. By accident or design he’d solved her family’s problems, too.
Accident, for sure.
This whole event was probably part of his plan to seduce her. He’d think after an experience such as this she’d be ready to accept any offer, even a dishonorable one. If so, he had misplayed his hand. Tonight he had shown her that she could not trust her virtue and willpower once he turned his powers and skills against her.
That resolved her to avoid him forever.
She slid off the bed and straightened her twisted garments. She could almost feel again skillful hands roaming over her body with just two layers of cloth between them and her skin.
