My Three Masters Read Free Page B

been drinking the brandy. “Wh…what?” I whispered.
    “Let me look at you.”
    He was looking at me. Closely. Heatedly. Confusingly.
“But, sir, you are—”
    “Lift your dress.”
    The quiet words dropped into the library like stones into a
well. Lift my dress . The Marquis wanted me to expose my private
area to him. And that very region of my body seemed to pulsate with the desire
to do just that. Heat tingled between my legs. I stared at him, feeling flushed
and chilled in alternating waves.
    He stared back and I knew his message. If I wanted to
leave—the library or his employ—now would be the perfect moment to do so.
Should I choose to remain, well, the dark promise in his wicked face left no
doubt that I’d be traveling down a road to new sensual horizons.
    The silence held us for long, prickling moments. Only the
fire intruded, its crackle echoing the tumult inside me.
    Then I lowered my hands to my thighs and grasped the drab
homespun of my dress. He relaxed his legs, giving me room. I bunched up the
material, drawing the hem off the floor. Slowly, inch by inch, I raised it,
feeling the fire-warmed air touch my ankles, then my calves, then my knees. I
watched the Marquis devour each new discovery with his hungry gaze. Surely this
must be a dream. Surely I wasn’t disrobing in front of the most notorious rake
in London.
    Under that insistent, avaricious gaze, I didn’t stop until
half my thighs were exposed. Then I paused.
    “Oh no,” said the Marquis in a roughened voice. “You’re not
to stop there. Such shapely and tender flesh I see displayed before me, as if a
Greek nymph has invaded my library and decided to torment me with her beauty.
Pray continue.”
    Beauty! It had been so many years since anyone had used such
a word with me. It was nearly as seductive as the lustful cast of his dark
features, the dusky flush on his cheeks.
    A sense of power swept through me. At this moment, the
Marquis was at my mercy. I piled more bunches of fabric into my hands and
raised my dress, and my shift along with it, to my waist. I was bare beneath
it. Air stirred the small thatch of curls that hid my secrets. I squeezed my
eyes shut, taking refuge in blessed darkness. But I could still sense his
heated gaze homing in on my nether regions.
    My belly clenched with fierce excitement. I felt moisture
rise between my legs. I shifted from one foot to the other in an agony of
anticipation.
    “I’m going to touch you now,” he said firmly.
    I nodded, even though he hadn’t asked my permission. I knew
that if I wanted to, I could drop my skirts and flee. But I’d been waiting so
long for his touch, so many sleepless nights had I envisioned a scene much like
this one. I drew in a breath and waited for what seemed an eternity.
    Then a finger lit on the very spot that cried out for
release. I jumped and nearly let go of my skirts.
    “Easy now,” he murmured. “Just as I suspected. You’re so
slick and satiny. How I’d love to lick you until you scream.”
    Lick me? My hands trembled.
    “Not to mention all the other things I have in mind.” He ran
his hands over my thighs, my hipbones and the quivering valley between them.
“But I shouldn’t mention those to such innocent ears as yours.” He returned his
hand to my mound and slid his thumb across the place that made me jump.
    “Do you ever touch yourself here?”
    I squeezed my eyes closed even tighter. How had he known
that?
    “I see that you do. So you know what marvelous thing will
happen if I keep rubbing your dainty little clitoris.”
    So that’s what it was called.
    “Has any man ever touched you here? Be truthful now.” He
pinched my “clitoris” and I gave a muffled squeal at the piercing pleasure of
it.
    “No.”
    “A virgin, through and through. The possibilities are
entrancing.” The motion of his thumb increased. I staggered but he held me
steady with his other hand. “I want to see you come, right here in front of me.
It will be my