Fi couldn’t resist the seductive challenge in Hawk’s eyes. She adored this wicked side of her husband, so at odds with the aloof scholar the rest of the world saw. While she knew he’d had other lovers—how could she forget the spiteful Lady Ayles—he belonged tohernow. Every moment they spent together strengthened their bond. His explanation that he’d come to Swann’s to enhance their marital pleasure seemed genuine…although the coincidence of them both being herewasuncanny.
Clearly, Mrs. Swann had figured out the relationship between Fi and Hawk. Yet the proprietress was known to be discreet. What harm would a little tryst do?
“I would never wish to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart.” Hawk’s gaze was keen. “If you wish to go home, I will escort you now.”
This is why I trust him.His care for my comfort above all.
Hawk might not think of himself as a sentimental man, but she felt his care for her in everything he did. And it made her long to have another adventure with him, this time without disguises. To be his partner in this game of passion.
“Nonsense. You know shopping is my favorite sport.” She gave him a flirty smile. “Do I have carte blanche?”
The lines around his eyes relaxed; the grey orbs took on a wolfish gleam. “Haven’t I always given you what you want?”
“Why change a winning strategy?”
His lips curving, he took her hand, his long fingers engulfing hers.
“Then why don’t we see what tickles your fancy,” he murmured. “Mrs. Swann said there are three ‘playrooms’ to explore in here.”
Hawk led Fi to the row of doors she’d passed earlier. He opened the first one, and with tingling anticipation, she entered with him. The first thing she saw was a large wooden cross upon a dais; the rough wood and dangling manacles made her tense. Her apprehension increased when Hawk opened the cabinet next to the cross, revealing a collection of whips, chains, and birches.
“No?” Hawk tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes before confirming quietly, “No. We’ll move on.”
“Do you find this, um, merchandise intriguing?”
“I am only interested in what intrigues you, sweetheart.”
“But do whips interestyou?”
“I have no particular interest in inflicting pain.” He trailed his fingertips along her jaw. “Nor would I wish to mark your beautiful skin. Not with a whip, at any rate.”
Hot curiosity filled her. “How else would you, um, mark me?”
Instead of answering, Hawk kissed her. Long and slow and deep. Until she was clutching his lapels for support, ready to go on the cross, to try anything with him.
“Come, my sweet.” He wrapped a steadying arm around her waist. “Let us see what else Mrs. Swann has in store.”
The next playroom was decorated in the style of the Near East. Thetrompe de l’oeilmural on the walls depicted windows looking out to an azure sea. Next to it was a round mattress covered in emerald silk and tasseled pillows. Fiona wandered over to the white cupboard decorated with arabesque fretwork. Opening the door, she let out a startled giggle.
The shelves were lined with replicas of the male member. They were made of wood, ivory, and India rubber, some with a leather sac attached at the base. The fake cocks, available in a variety of flesh tones, were neatly organized by size, from small to eye-poppingly large.
Hawk quirked a brow at her.
Hiding a grin, she said demurely, “I prefer the real thing.”
They entered the final room, and awareness shot through her. The walls had been stuccoed and painted to resemble a rocky cave, flickering wall sconces bathing the space in a primordial glow. In the middle of the cave was an altar built of black marble, glossy and veined, a bearskin rug on the ground beside it.
Fiona flashed to an image of herself laid upon that hard, paganistic rock. Of being offered like a carnal sacrifice. Of being helpless to her husband’s darkest demands. Her cheeks throbbed with heat; her pussy clenched against a moist rush.
Hawk’s eyes gleamed as if he could glean her fantasies. As if her every wicked thought fed his ravening hunger. He closed the door, sealing them inside.
Fi felt trapped…and, simultaneously, free.
“My sweet Sól,” he said huskily. “I believe the wolf has caught up with you at last.”
Twenty-Six
Excitement swept through Fiona. She couldn’t resist the game they were playing. She remembered what Hawk had told her of Sól, the brave, bold goddess of the sun, and a fantasy ignited in her head. Of being captured and made to submit to her husband’s desires.
