She set down her reticule and unbuttoned her coat, glancing askance at the red velvet couch, and then around the room. Multiple hooks lined burgundy walls adorned with mirrors reflecting every angle. The opposite of the room contained an over-large privacy screen.
She rolled her shoulders, discomfited by the blatant eroticism. Truthfully, the room reminded her of a brothel. Though she’d never been inside a brothel, her small island had its share of those who lived and loved on the wrong side of propriety.
The most successful had resided together in a house with windows that looked out to the sea. When a ship came in, they donned ill-fitting gowns far too outrageous for their corner of the world before welcoming wave-weary men into their rooms. Some nights, as Alicia passed by in the shadows, she heard sounds of laughter and lust.
Oh, she knew those ladies’ lives were not all gaiety. Sometimes children came months after the ship had departed. Sometimes disease.
But still, the sounds coming through windows open to the night breeze were sounds of pleasure. Whenever she heard such sounds, she’d been rendered curious and hot, imagining what her first time would be like.
What a terrible disappointment the marriage bed had been.
Octavius preferred his wife to remain quiet, still, and fully clothed. In fact, he’d been adamant that anything else would fail to keep her pure. Judging from the scandalous concoctions hanging from the hooks, he’d expected something far different from the countess.
She reached out to finger a dressing gown.Heavenly.And the color! Pink. Not just any pink, but rose, light as an innocent’s blush. She placed her hand beneath the fabric. Even in the low light, the fabric was so thin she could make out the lines in the crook of her hand. Octavius’s voice seemed to travel through the years. ...There’s an M in your right hand. That means you will be married.
How could someone who wooed with such romance thoroughly shatter her heart? He’d been the perfect gentleman. And she’d wanted to be the perfect wife. Then, he’d found the perfect mistress.
She dropped the dressing gown. For a respectable widow, the cost of freedom was lifelong celibacy. Anything sensual and soft was none of her concern.
The door closed, followed quickly by the groan of a lock.
A distinctly male scent filled the air—wealthymale, a scent she recognized but could not place. Hair on her neck raised; she forced a calming breath. Nothing came of panic. She’d learned that on the high seas.
“Please, have a seat.”
His cultured intonation disproved her first assumption—that he was yet another of Octavius’s creditors, the horrid men who demanded money in the most unlikely of places.
“Imprisonment,” she said coolly, refusing to turn, “is not to my taste. And if it is not to yours, I suggest you unlock that door.”
“Admirable restraint,” he said.
“Losing one’s head is a luxury afforded only to those accustomed to care.”
He made a deep, humming sort of sound, a sound she felt in her belly.
“A woman such as yourselfshouldbe accustomed to care.”
She added outrageous to a list that included male, wealthy, and cultured. “I do not believe we’ve been introduced, Mr.—?”
“The honorific you seek is Your Grace.”
She turned. His face was illuminated by the faint glow spilling from a lighted sconce.
The duke—if he was truly a duke—was at least a full head taller than she, but it was his smoldering eyes that sparked recognition. He was the man from the funeral.
For a split second that might as well have been an eternity, her mind went blessedly blank. Then, bereft of thought’s direction, her senses began to dance.
Stop, she ordered.
But he smells so nice, they whined.
“You’ve surmised you are in no immediate danger.”
But shewasin danger. Pure peril, actually—past, present and future. “Have I surmised correctly?”
Smile was not the right word for what happened to his mouth. A smile stood for camaraderie or at the very least, amusement. His lips, ever so slightly upturned, were entirely predatorial.
She should have known better than to accept help, even if she had judged him altruistic. Nothing good came from depending on a man.
