not stop himself from wondering what further
punishment Thurston had planned for him. That it would be brutal and unjust he had no doubt. He only
hoped he’d be man enough to take it.
Chapter Two
Anna Celeste Allen sighed loudly as she watched the scullery maid and her lover as they met beneath the
oak tree just beyond the kitchen gardens. She was sitting in her window seat with her chin resting on the
backs of her crossed hands, doing what her father would no doubt chastise her for were he to find out.
It had been by chance that Celeste spied the lovers as she glanced out the opened window and her
attention had been caught and held as the lad pulled the maid into his arms. Such a thing was unknown to
her so she had stopped to watch, ashamed at her illicit spying but unable to look away. The sight of the
handsome young man embracing his lady then placing his lips to hers had made Celeste’s heart beat
faster and she—like any impressionable teenager—had begun to daydream. But then the lad had put a
hand to the doxie’s breast to caress her through the coarse material of her woolen gown.
“Oh, my!” Celeste said, feeling her face burning. She was shocked into utter stillness—her eyes nearly
as wide as her mouth—and when the lad’s hand had delved down the maid’s bodice, she had nearly
choked as she gasped.
Unable to step back from the window for she was rooted to the spot with shock, Celeste watched as
the maid and her lover sank to the ground. The maid lay sprawled on her back as her lover tossed her
skirts up to reveal long legs bare of stocking, garter or…
“Oh!”Celeste gasped. The maid wore no underthings at all and the juncture of her legs was thrown wide
for her lover to caress—and caress he did with a feverish intensity that stunned Celeste.
Tearing her eyes from the vulgar display of the maid’s near nudity, Celeste stared at the woman’s face as
her lover continued to knead her busily between the legs. The woman’s lips were parted, her eyes
closed, her hands buried in her lover’s dark blond hair. With the bodice of her gown pulled down over
one breast and the fiery triangle practically gleaming in the morning sun, surely the woman was headed
straight for the fires of hell!
Though she did not see what the young man pulled from his pants as he fumbled at the front of them,
Celeste nearly cried out with mortification as the woman threw her legs around her lover’s hips and
arched up to meet him, her ankles crossed over his waist.
Thrusting his lower body hard between the maid’s thighs, the young man slid his hands under the maid
and lifted her higher. Only then did Celeste look away, hurriedly getting up and moving away from the
window, putting distance between her and the temptation to see what else the brazen lad would do.
Fanning herself, Celeste fled to the safety of her bed and sat down. She was breathing so quickly she
felt lightheaded and reached out to wrap her hands around the tall mahogany four-poster column. “Oh,
my,” she whispered again.
Was that what all men and women did together?she wondered. How would she ever know when no one
could—or would—explain to her what went on behind the closed bedchamber doors of a man and his
lady?
Celeste had never known her mother—Lady Alinor had died giving birth to her only child—and those
women with whom she came into daily contact rarely spoke to her unless Celeste initiated the
conversation. The women certainly never answered the questions she asked. The healer her father had
hired to care for her over the years was a woman and it had been from her Celeste had learned of certain
taboo subjects about which her parent otherwise would not have spoken. Had it not been for Madame
DeAnce, Celeste would have believed herself bleeding to death the day her menses had begun.
“It is natural, child,” the healer had said with a tsk -ing sound. “Do not be afraid. It happens to all
women of
punishment Thurston had planned for him. That it would be brutal and unjust he had no doubt. He only
hoped he’d be man enough to take it.
Chapter Two
Anna Celeste Allen sighed loudly as she watched the scullery maid and her lover as they met beneath the
oak tree just beyond the kitchen gardens. She was sitting in her window seat with her chin resting on the
backs of her crossed hands, doing what her father would no doubt chastise her for were he to find out.
It had been by chance that Celeste spied the lovers as she glanced out the opened window and her
attention had been caught and held as the lad pulled the maid into his arms. Such a thing was unknown to
her so she had stopped to watch, ashamed at her illicit spying but unable to look away. The sight of the
handsome young man embracing his lady then placing his lips to hers had made Celeste’s heart beat
faster and she—like any impressionable teenager—had begun to daydream. But then the lad had put a
hand to the doxie’s breast to caress her through the coarse material of her woolen gown.
“Oh, my!” Celeste said, feeling her face burning. She was shocked into utter stillness—her eyes nearly
as wide as her mouth—and when the lad’s hand had delved down the maid’s bodice, she had nearly
choked as she gasped.
Unable to step back from the window for she was rooted to the spot with shock, Celeste watched as
the maid and her lover sank to the ground. The maid lay sprawled on her back as her lover tossed her
skirts up to reveal long legs bare of stocking, garter or…
“Oh!”Celeste gasped. The maid wore no underthings at all and the juncture of her legs was thrown wide
for her lover to caress—and caress he did with a feverish intensity that stunned Celeste.
Tearing her eyes from the vulgar display of the maid’s near nudity, Celeste stared at the woman’s face as
her lover continued to knead her busily between the legs. The woman’s lips were parted, her eyes
closed, her hands buried in her lover’s dark blond hair. With the bodice of her gown pulled down over
one breast and the fiery triangle practically gleaming in the morning sun, surely the woman was headed
straight for the fires of hell!
Though she did not see what the young man pulled from his pants as he fumbled at the front of them,
Celeste nearly cried out with mortification as the woman threw her legs around her lover’s hips and
arched up to meet him, her ankles crossed over his waist.
Thrusting his lower body hard between the maid’s thighs, the young man slid his hands under the maid
and lifted her higher. Only then did Celeste look away, hurriedly getting up and moving away from the
window, putting distance between her and the temptation to see what else the brazen lad would do.
Fanning herself, Celeste fled to the safety of her bed and sat down. She was breathing so quickly she
felt lightheaded and reached out to wrap her hands around the tall mahogany four-poster column. “Oh,
my,” she whispered again.
Was that what all men and women did together?she wondered. How would she ever know when no one
could—or would—explain to her what went on behind the closed bedchamber doors of a man and his
lady?
Celeste had never known her mother—Lady Alinor had died giving birth to her only child—and those
women with whom she came into daily contact rarely spoke to her unless Celeste initiated the
conversation. The women certainly never answered the questions she asked. The healer her father had
hired to care for her over the years was a woman and it had been from her Celeste had learned of certain
taboo subjects about which her parent otherwise would not have spoken. Had it not been for Madame
DeAnce, Celeste would have believed herself bleeding to death the day her menses had begun.
“It is natural, child,” the healer had said with a tsk -ing sound. “Do not be afraid. It happens to all
women of
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