Behind the Courtesan’s Mask Read Free

voice, the one which she had last used to such good effect when taking her chickens to market.
    Troy got to his feet. In one sense, it didn’t matter how much he offered, for he had no intention of paying up. The idea was to entice her into agreeing, nothing more, suffice to make her see she had been found out, that her vows of fidelity to the poor love-struck boy were worthless.
    He would not actually go through with it. Absolutely not. Every fiber of his being should be repelled at the idea of touching her. Of kissing her. Of sheathing himself in her. She sold her body for money. She was haggling with him over the exact amount right at this moment.
    And yet, as he ran his fingers down the tender skin of her forearm, his erection strengthened. And La Perla shivered. She wanted him.

Chapter Two
    No! She wanted his money. That shiver was just a trick. Just as the blush that was delicately coloring her throat was a trick. “Five thousand,” Troy said recklessly, anxious now to get it over, anxious to remove himself from this skilled temptress who seemed both venal and virtuous, a heady combination.
    Constance gasped. “You surely jest,” she said before she could stop herself. “Five thousand pounds!”
    â€œGuineas,” Troy said, trying not to smile triumphantly, for now he had her. “And I never joke when I am negotiating.”
    â€œYou consider yourself an expert?”
    â€œI’m a diplomat. A good one. You could say it’s my raison d’être,” Troy replied, surprising them both with the truth.
    â€œThen I’m afraid that today your talents are wasted. I don’t want your money. I am sure you have many better uses to put it to—and if not, I am sure your wife has.”
    â€œI am not married. I would not be here if I was,” Troy replied. The truth again, for his belief in fidelity, so at war with his low boredom threshold, was another reason for his single state. He could not understand though why he had so readily admitted it—his instinct as a diplomat was to manage information shrewdly.
    He was not married. He would not be here if he was. She took this in, and at the same time tried very hard to pay it no heed. It shouldn’t matter, but it did, and this had gone quite far enough. Constance was frightened now, not of him but of herself. Temptation was urging her, not to take the money, but to take the man, a persistent voice in her head, telling her that no one would ever know, reminding her that only a short while ago she had been wondering what it would be like to do exactly this. Temptation was prompting her to look at the dark-as-sin man in front of her, with his firm flesh and seductive lips. This not-married man would linger over their lovemaking. His touch would be sure. He would be knowledgeable, temptation was whispering urgently to her now. He would know how to make you feel the pleasures of sin, which until now you have only imagined. He would be expert.
    â€œFive thousand,” Troy repeated.
    â€œI cannot imagine what you would expect for such a sum.”
    â€œOh, I’m sure you can.”
    Could she? Oh, God, she should not even try. “No,” Constance said, more to her inner voice than to the man.
    â€œYou wish me to elaborate then?” Troy asked. He was beginning to lose sight of the objective. He wanted to kiss her. He had to kiss her. “For five thousand, I’d expect a lot of this, for a start.”
    â€œA lot of what?” Constance asked faintly, but she already knew, for his arms were around her, and they were such strong arms. His body was pressed against hers, and it was such a hard body, so solid, so elementally male. And his mouth was descending upon hers, his eyes half-closed, a dark glint of need reflected in them.
    â€œKisses,” Troy said. “I would expect a lot of kisses.” And then his lips took possession of hers.
    She had been kissed chastely, with the public