Chapter Sixteen
Alaric stood transfixed, his cold rage swirling into a blazing wall of lust. His hands fisted at his sides. His loins flooded with heat.
“I see you two are acquainted,” Marieur said with a smirk.
“Get out,” he said.
“Oui, your grace, but as you have intervened in my, ahem, wardrobe selection for Miss Kendall—”
“I’ll take an entire wardrobe for MissKendallhere.” Alaric saw Emma wince at his use of her assumed name, and his anger flared white-hot. Howdareshe put herself in such a dangerous position? “See that we’re not disturbed.”
“Excellent, your grace.” The bawd scraped and bowed her way out.
The door closed with a click. The tension in the room climbed.
Perched on the edge of the dais, Emma had her hands clamped over her sex. His blood pumped with outrage and hunger. Devil take it, her getup might have been summoned from his darkest fantasies. A naughty red corset held her breasts up like an offering to the Gods, her dusky nipples playing peek-a-boo behind black lace. Displayed in black silk, her shapely, slim legs beckoned with outrageous eroticism.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said.
“No?” Jaw clenched, he strode to her. Stopped an inch from her knees. “Then perhaps you would be so kind as to explain what you are doing dressed like a bluidy harlot in a bawdy house!”
He caught his slipping accent. Never a good sign.With monumental effort, he held onto his temper. Emma turned even rosier—byGod, she blushed in the most interesting of places...
“I didn’tknowthis was a place of ill repute. I was following a clue, you see and—”
“Clue? Explain,” he said through his teeth.
She fidgeted, and the corset shifted. His breath rammed in his throat. Christ’s blood, he had a prime view of her nipples from this angle, and the taut little berries were full, maddeningly ripe. They would taste so sweet on his tongue...
“I, um, interviewed your staff. Before you get all hot under the collar about it,”—she raised her chin, and his temperature did rise, though lower than where she suggested—“I discovered something extremely useful. Your missing maid was an actress at a theatre called The Cytherea; her real name is Lily White. She was a regular visitor to Madame Marieur’s.” A furrow appeared between her brows. “Apparently not for the purpose I initially believed, however.”
He stared at her. He didn’t know what dumbfounded him more: her ingenuity or her recklessness. “You interviewed my maids—and then you came hereon your own?”
“There’s no need to shout. How was I to know that this was a den of iniquity? The sign outside clearly stated that this was a shop for ladies’ apparel—false advertising, if you ask me.” She had the gall to sound disgruntled. “And Madame seemed quite convincing as a dressmaker.”
“Yourdressmakeris one of the most notorious bawds in London,” he clipped out. “Her matchmaking skills are sought by every light-skirt and courtesan in Town. Just now, she was about to enter the gentlemen’s bidding chamber to auction off your favors.”
Emma’s lashes swept up. “Bidding chamber?Auction?”
“Your favors were about to be sold at the starting price of five hundred pounds.”
Her pupils dilated. She bit her lip and looked worried.Finally.
His hands fisted on his hips, he leaned over her. “If I hadn’t arrived when I did, it could have been any man who walked into the room just now. What do you think would have happened then?”
The notion of another man seeing her thus, lusting over her, touching her—
No one lays a hand on what is mine.
As his fury boiled over, he was simultaneously struck by scorching clarity. Like it or not, he wanted Emma Kent. Fighting that fact was a damned waste of time. He’d given her plenty of warnings; she’d ignored them all.
Now it was time for both of them to face the consequences.
“I’m sure I would have thought of something. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She peered up at him with feminine awareness in her wide eyes, a new breathy edge to her voice. “If you would just, um, hand me my clothes... ”
He took a step forward, his knees parting hers in a forceful movement. She gasped as he insinuated himself between her spread thighs. Her hands sprung upward in an instinctive attempt to ward him off and, in the process, she exposed her womanhood.
Ach, she looked as pretty and soft as she’d felt.
