“You want to talk about the thief now?” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “Where are all the blasted servants in this place? Why is there no butler to open the door? Someone to make sure men can’t stroll up to your chamber without so much as a by-your-leave?”
“Mrs. Farran, my landlady, can only afford her maid and Cook.” She ran the rag from his ear down his neck. The red stain disappeared beneath his cravat. She started to tug at the knot. “We get by.”
His nostrils flared. “It isn’t right, a house full of women so unprotected.”
His knot was stubborn, like its owner. She put the cloth down to attack it with both hands. “I quite enjoy the freedom of not having servants observing one’s every move.”
He grabbed her wrist, stilling her hands. “It isn’t right.”
She shifted, her leg brushing against his thigh. It was hard. Every part of this man was. From his morals to his muscles. “Do you always do what’s right?” Her voice came out breathier than she’d intended.
“I try.” His thumb pressed against the inside of her wrist, making her fingers go nerveless.
“Are you so certain you know what is right?” She tore at the knot with her free hand, finally undoing it. She jerked the piece of cotton free, her knuckles rapping against his jaw.
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath.
“Sorry.” The neckcloth was ruined. It had absorbed the trickle of blood and only trace amounts remained on his skin. Tossing it aside, she trailed her fingertips over his bruises, across his puffed lip.
She no longer knew right from wrong. She knew what she wanted. Knew she felt compelled to punish one man and tease another. Knew she didn’t want Charles to leave without exploring the sensations pounding through her body. For her, right no longer entered into the equation.
“You don’t know what you ask.” His voice was ragged. His grip on her tightened. “People follow rules for a reason. Life makes sense when we know our places. Our roles in society. This…tonight….” He shook his head.
She didn’t know what came over her. How she knew to play the temptress. But she slid onto his lap and wrapped her free arm around his neck. She’d never been one to follow the rules. She’d never gone so far as she had these past months, but pushing boundaries was nothing new.
And she wanted to push Charles’s boundaries. Make him bend. When this was all over, she didn’t know if she would be in prison or dead. She wasn’t expecting to come out of it unscathed. And if that was her end, well, she wanted to live, now, here, with this man. Her previous objections seemed silly. Life was too short to allow the concern over consequences to prevent one from ever acting.
“You’re a man. I’m a woman.” She ran her hand up the back of his head, inhaling his lovely scent of musk and man. “There aren’t any roles more basic than that.”
His breath gusted across her cheek. His eyes glittered darkly. And, like a very large dog that had snapped its lead, he jerked her close, grabbing the back of her neck with one hand and her bottom with the other, holding her tight. “Damn it all to hell,” he said, just before pressing his lips to hers.
Chapter Twenty-One
She tasted faintly of the wine she’d been sipping at the party. Sweet, but potent. Spicy. Altogether delicious. Her lips parted, and he took advantage, sweeping his tongue inside, swallowing her mewl of surprise.
He knew she was a green girl. Knew this was the first time a man would lie between her thighs. He knew all this but couldn’t make himself slow down. He worked the buttons that ran down her back, his fingertips enjoying each new inch of bare skin they revealed.
Charles was good at fucking. He supposed when the time came and he had a blushing innocent before him on their wedding night he would learn how to be careful. Tender. Press soft, calming kisses to his bride before easing himself inside.
Now was not that time.
He stood, setting Cassie on her feet as he tore her gown down to the ground. She clutched at her shift even as her eyes glowed with excitement.
His chest heaved as he swallowed one deep breath, then another. His mind whirled. This was Cassie. She wasn’t a woman he could fuck like some experienced lady-bird, even though the images of just how he’d take her if she was made him bite back a groan. Nor was she shy and modest, someone he’d have to seduce with sweet words and soft touches to get inside her pantalettes.
His mind blanked. He couldn’t find the right category for her. Couldn’t think of how to handle this, handle her.
She took his indecision away. With her teeth pressed into her plump lower lip, she drew at the bow that held her shift together, dragging the ribbon free from its loose knot.
The fabric gaped, the candlelight casting shadows between her half-exposed breasts.
Charles’s mind settled. It stopped trying to sort her into the appropriate box in which she belonged. She belonged here, now, with him, and that was all that mattered. Scooping her up, he strode to the bed and tossed her upon it, smiling at her shriek.
“Quiet.” He tried to give his voice a gravity he didn’t feel as he tugged off her boots and stockings. “We’re not alone in this house.”
“Mrs. Farran is at the other end of the hall and has poor hearing.” Cassie shrugged out of her shift, her breasts jiggling with the movement. “And Cook and the maid have rooms on another floor altogether.”
His mouth went as dry as a desert, his gaze focused on the twin mounds of feminine bounty. As she wiggled her way out of the piece of linen, baring her body to his eyes, Charles blinked. How had he ever thought this woman’s appearance ordinary? She was plump and curved in all the right spots. Her skin glowed in the golden light. Strands of her hair were coming loose from their pins and curling about her sloping shoulders.
