Disrobed and Dishonored Read Free Page A

of it. She wanted him in almost equal measure to the fear. Her highwayman. Jonathan. She had never wanted a man before; at least she had never wanted more than a mild flirtation, a daring kiss to set her a-flutter for an evening, to be forgotten in the morning along with the champagne and the foolish flirting.
    Now…She jumped as the door opened and he came in, locking it behind him. He handed her the key before putting a plate on the table and taking knife, fork and bottle from his pocket.
    ‘Food first?’
    That voice seemed to curl round inside her, making her hot and flustered and strangely jumpy. ‘No.’ Eat? Is he mad?
    ‘Wine, then?’
    ‘Yes.’ That would help. She studied him as he eased out the cork. Long legs, broad shoulders, enough muscle to be a fighter and a smile on him that turned the hot, flustered feeling into a deep, disturbing, low ache. He still wore the mask and she was glad of it; somehow it made him less real. ‘Thank you.’ She gulped the wine and handed him back the glass. ‘I am a little nervous, I confess.’
    ‘Understandably. Do you still want to go through with this?’ Sarah thought of Sir Jeremy, thought of Mary’s tears, and nodded. ‘We will proceed to the matter at hand then? Would you like to undress first, or shall I?’

Chapter Two
    ‘You will have to help me.’ Sarah got to her feet and turned her back. That was easier, she did not have to look at him. She tried not to flinch as his fingers, busy on the buttons, brushed the bare skin of her neck, then her shoulders, then were kept from her naked skin by her chemise. The gown sagged and she caught it, stepping out and standing there, his warmth at her back as he began to untie her stay laces.
    ‘You are very adept at this,’ she said, attempting to sound cool and sophisticated and aware she was achieving neither. The release of pressure on her ribs was not, oddly, helping her breathing at all. I can still stop, I can still say no…
    ‘I have had a little practice,’ Jonathan conceded. She could hear he was smiling. ‘You can turn round now.’
    He was standing there shrugging out of coat and waistcoat. Despite the mask she could see his eyes on her, a dark heat smoldering there. ‘Will you untie my neck cloth?’
    That brought her close, as he no doubt intended, her fingers clumsy on the simple folds. His clothes were respectable, but plain; she tried to concentrate on that while she unwound the warm muslin from his throat and pulled it free. He was waiting, it seemed, for her to unbutton his shirt, so she did that too, feeling a little light-headed as so much chest became visible right in front of her face. It was a very impressive chest, with flat, sculpted muscle and lightly tanned skin as though, perhaps, he had swum that summer or worked with his shirt off. He must undertake other, more honest, labor from time to time.
    And then there was the hair, crisp and startling as it brushed her knuckles, growing thicker and more focused as she worked down, until it vanished into his breeches. Sarah undid the last button and tugged so the shirt came free. And then there he was, clad in nothing but buckskins and boots and there she was, feeling as though she was wearing nothing but a blush.
    ‘It isn’t compulsory to proceed, you know,’ Jonathan said, watching her face. ‘We can just have some supper and I’ll escort you home.’
    ‘Oh yes it is,’ she retorted, suddenly sure, despite feeling more nervous than she could ever remember. ‘It is this or marriage to the swine who raped my maid and then threatened her. Papa considers him such a good match in material terms that I cannot think of any other way than this to get free from him.’ He still seemed to hesitate. Sarah swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘Are you going to take your boots off?’
    That provoked a snort of laughter. ‘But of course. It is de rigeur to remove one’s boots before making love to a lady.’ He sat and began to pull them