You’re mine. I’m the only man who can give you what you need.
He’d planted that notion, and it flourished in the jungle of her mind. Images of him proliferated, filling her every waking hour—and even when she wasn’t awake. Her cheeks warmed. Who knew that dreams could be so depraved? He’d awakened some dormant need in her, and now she couldn’t contain it.
Even now, her body simmered with awareness. With each step, her breasts pressed against her bodice, achy and full, the tips pulsing as she recalled how he’d suckled her. His mouth had felt so good there and lower… Goodness, had she really allowed him to do that? To kiss her… pussy? Just thinking the word liquefied her insides.
Botheration,she thought sourly.Now not only do I need to guard against uncharitable thoughts, I have to watch out forlewdones too.
Thanks to Andrew, she couldn’t get words likecockandfuckout of her head. They were wicked, coarse… and rather titillating.
Heavens above, shewasa trollop.
She couldn’t stop herself from imagining what it would be like to be in Andrew’s bed. To hear his deep voice murmuring deliciously naughty things. To feel himdoingthose things. To have his cock inside her, filling her, making her forget everything but how right it felt to be with him…
Don’t be a nitwit. Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for—to have anaffair?
Frustrated at her own stupidity, she stomped through the foyer toward the drawing room. The door was open, and she stopped short at the sight of Polly… and Revelstoke. The earl had his wife pressed up against a wall, their profiles revealed to anyone who might walk in, but they were too absorbed in each other to notice.
Revelstoke had one hand braced on the wall by Polly’s head. Polly’s eyes were closed, her lips parted as he nuzzled the side of her neck. Tingles danced over Rosie’s skin as she recalled Andrew kissing her there, along that sensitive slope, then sucking her earlobe the way Revelstoke was doing to his countess now. A sensual sigh escaped Polly—and that was when Rosie noticed that the other’s stockinged legs were visible between the earl’s booted stance. Polly’s skirts were bunched at her waist, the fabric spilling over the sleeve of the earl’s jacket, his blue gaze burning with possession as he watched his wife’s face…
Unbearable longing flooded Rosie. What would it be like to have Andrew look at her that way? To allow herself to be possessed by him… to surrender to the desire blazing between them?
In that same instant, she realized she was standing there like a Peeping Tom, intruding upon a highly intimate moment. Mortified, she whipped around, rounding the doorway—and collided with the butler.
They rebounded off one another, she landing on her bottom, he reeling backward with a grunt, a tray flying from his hands. Tea and pastries rained through the air, and silverware clanged to the floor in a finale worthy of an orchestra.
Seconds later, Polly appeared, the earl behind her.
“What in heavens?” she exclaimed. “Are the two of you all right?”
“My apologies!” His face red and flustered, Harvey, the butler, rushed to help Rosie up—only to realize that the hand he’d extended was covered in clotted cream.
“I’ve got it, Harvey.” Revelstoke hauled Rosie to her feet.
“I don’t know how I could be so careless,” Harvey began.
“It was my fault entirely,” Rosie mumbled. “I was going too fast…”
She trailed off, catching the chagrinned look Polly cast at Revelstoke. For most of her life, Polly had possessed a uniquegiftfor sensing other’s emotions. Polly had always considered the extraordinary ability a plague and had been glad to be rid of it, yet her natural perspicacity remained. She’d obviously guessed the cause of Rosie’s clumsy flight.
Not wanting to embarrass the other or herself further, Rosie muttered, “I’ll, um, get changed.”
A few minutes after she arrived in her room, a knock sounded. She went to the door.
Polly stood there, chewing on her lip. “I thought you could use some help.”
“Thank you, dear.” To hide her mortification, Rosie ushered the other in. Opening the wardrobe, she said lightly, “What shall I wear—the black… or the black?”
A smile tucked in Polly’s cheeks. “The black?”
“Excellent choice.”
She took down the ebony taffeta and hung it on the dressing screen next to the chevalier glass.
Polly came over to help, keeping her eyes studiously on the buttons she was undoing. “I’m sorry about what you saw.” Embarrassment quivered in her voice. “Sinjin and I—”
“Are newlyweds,” Rosie said in a rush. “Truly, there’s no need to apologize. You’ve both been so gracious whilst I’ve intruded on your privacy.”
“Nonsense. Our home is your home. But what you must think of us—”
