Deeper in Sin (3 page)

She could not go back just as impoverished as when she'd left.

“I can't go home with empty hands. I can't look at all their faces and see the disappointment and the fear. I don't care what the price is for them to be fed and safe and happy.”

“You do not even understand the price,” he said softly. “Come with me.”

“To dance?”

“No. I have something to show you.”

 

Cary had planned to find a mistress here tonight so he could prove to himself he could take a bride and have a normal married life with her. A married life that would include children—the duty of every English peer.

Instead, he was leading a pretty dark-haired young woman down a quiet corridor to show her the truth about life as a courtesan.

At every turn in their conversation, Sophie Ashley had startled him. She had argued with him. She had disdained him for being here, looking for a mistress when she was looking for a protector. She'd accused him of being clueless when it came to poverty. Then, when she'd decided she'd wanted to waltz, she'd guilelessly tried to drag him onto the dance floor. She'd sparkled like a jewel, her lovely green eyes wide and full of hope and excitement. Her innocence had shone like a candle's glow.

She had sweetness. And spirit.

She was an absolute beauty with her lush black hair and massive green eyes.

And she had no bloody clue what she was doing.

He led her out of the ballroom and down one of the corridors of the assembly rooms. He took her farther from the crowd, where the hall was darker. For all appearances, it was deserted, but he knew differently. At these events, a Cyprian usually lured a lover away to ensure she sealed the deal.

He heard a soft, saucy giggle. A guttural male moan.

Cary led Miss Ashley to the door, which was partly open. A low fire burned in the grate, giving enough light so she could see into the room.

He pushed the door open farther.

And stood back, expecting to see poor Miss Ashley freeze, go chalk white with shock, then back away in haste.

Seconds later, he realized she was still watching. And she was not pale.

Her cheeks had gone sweetly pink. Her eyes were wide. Her tongue swept over her lips in a way that was like a sharp slap to his cock, telling it to wake up.

He watched her tongue sweep, tap, lick, and make her full, lush lips shiny and moist.

“Look what she's doing to him.” She gasped breathily. “Goodness, look at his face. He's transported by pleasure. He loves every minute of it.” She turned to him and dabbed her full lips again. “Do you like to have that done to you?”

What was she talking about? Cary realized he had better look....

The duke had pushed the door open so stealthily, so gently, there had been no sound. Sophie had heard giggles and groans and, when she'd looked, she had seen a naked woman get down upon her knees in front of a man who wore only a white linen shirt.

The Duke of Caradon stood right behind her. She couldn't see him, but her whole body was aware of him. She was quivering, waiting to feel him touch her somewhere.

Then he leaned closer, and his warm breath washed over her ear. She let out a moan. She couldn't help it. Her whole body went tense and wobbly at the same time.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

At the same moment, in the room, the woman's head moved between the man's legs. She took hold of his thick staff with both hands and pointed it to her mouth.

Was she going to kiss it?

Not quite. The woman parted her lips and ran her tongue along the veined staff. Licking him! Heavens, now she knew what was meant when her mother wrote that a woman could control a man with her lips. She'd thought that her mother had meant conversation.

She'd seen Samuel's penis, all erect and eager. This man's was fatter and bigger. Really, it was quite shockingly large. The man, with his dark wavy hair, was rather handsome. But Sophie found it hard to keep looking at his face.

She couldn't resist looking lower.

The man's erect member disappeared inside the woman's mouth. The woman kept her lips all soft and relaxed around him, holding him tight as her head bobbed and she took him in and out. The woman sucked so hard, her cheeks hollowed.

Oh, the man looked as if he were in heaven. Obviously, men really did delight in this. Could she—?

She thought she could, with the Duke of Caradon. Her rescuer.

Then the man in the room put his hand on the woman's head to hold her in place and pumped aggressively into her mouth. Harder and faster. Saliva dribbled down the woman's chin. She took hold of his buttocks and the ballocks between his legs, and squeezed both.

The man threw his head back. “I'm coming!” he hollered, and surged his hips forward. Grabbing his hips to hold him in place, the woman sucked so hard, she made the man scream. Literally.

“Bloody hell,” the Duke of Caradon muttered behind her. He pulled her back from the door. His broad chest rose and fell with his heavier breaths. “I wanted you to see the kinds of things a man would demand of you.”

“I would be willing for a man I desire,” she said honestly. “For
you
.”

The duke rubbed his temple. His teeth were gritted. “That is not what I wanted you to discover.”

She moved toward him until her bosom almost brushed his chest. “But it's what I have discovered. I'm not innocent, you know. I certainly know what desire feels like. And I want you.” She gripped the duke's solid forearm and surged up on her tiptoes.

Sophie sucked in a scared breath, softened her lips, and pressed her mouth to his.

Her first kiss as a courtesan!

3

 

—From an unfinished manuscript entitled
A Courtesan Confesses
by Anonymous

 

 

Her soft mouth moved over his in a messy attempt at a kiss. She was all eager enthusiasm, fierce passion, and no finesse. It was like capturing a willing but innocent dairy maid behind a milking shed. Miss Ashley had to be innocent, probably virginal.

Cary stood there, letting her lips rub against his. Until his conscience demanded to know what in hell he thought he was doing.

Stop kissing her and save her, damn it,
it said.

You might,
answered his conscience.
When was the last time you kissed a woman? When was the last time you were burning inside? If you unleash the lust boiling in you right now, you'll regret it.

She kissed him harder, mashing her lips to his. She pressed her bosom against his chest. Then she clasped his hand and lifted it to caress the swell of her breast. Full, encased in tight silk, her bosom was a warm temptation.

Apparently, she's ready to unleash
.

Shut the hell up,
he muttered to his conscience.

He should drag his hand away, but she held him there, his palm cupped around the sweet, full curve swathed in pale blue silk.

God . . . he groaned against her mouth as a surge of desire almost cut him off at the knees. In his confining trousers, his cock straightened.

He hadn't had sex in a long, long time. He couldn't even relieve himself in his own hand anymore. Memories flared up at any kind of sexual contact.

Moans fluttered from her lips. Her fingers clung to his shoulders. She had closed her eyes, and her jet-black lashes curled against her cheek, making her look even more sweet and innocent—though she kept his hand clamped against her soft, lovely tit.

She was trying for a sensual kiss, but she kept pushing her lips around on his with no real skill and no idea how to inflame his desire.

Despite this, his cock was as heavy as an iron bar, pulsing as all his blood rushed to it. His body was on fire.

Damn, what in hell was wrong with him?

He believed her story—he believed she had people to support and she had no other options. He believed it, and it made his heart ache. She was so lovely, and she had no idea what happened to most girls who tried to find a rich protector. He had to make her see the truth. He had to do something to save her—

Wanting to lift up her skirts and bury his aching cock in her lush heat was not going to save her. She was innocent, and if he fucked her, he would be taking that innocence. Only monsters did that....

His memories snapped at him like growling beasts secured by tethered collars. Soon the chains would break, and the dark tormenting images locked in his head would overwhelm him.

His cock swelled and throbbed as if to shout:
I'm here. It's been a long time, so I thought you might have forgotten you've got a cock
.

She moaned into his mouth and shoved harder against him. Memories exploded in his head, dark and vile. They clawed at him, trying to pull him down.

No. No, hell no . . .

If he didn't stop, what in hell was he? A blasted monster.

Cary jerked his hand free and away from her round breast, and broke away from her mouth. “Stop,” he growled.

For a moment, she stared at him as she'd forgotten who he was, where they stood. Then she moved close to him again and touched his forearm. “Why are you stopping? That was dazzling. My heart is pounding, and my skin feels as if it's on fire. I've never felt like this. You wanted me to see what courtesans do to their protectors. Don't you want more?”

“No, I don't want more,” he said tersely. “I want to frighten you so much that you run back to the country and find yourself a good, solid dimwitted husband, and you understand how precious and beautiful your innocence is. I want you to know how much you will regret it, every day of your life, if you let your innocence be taken away from you.”

 

Sophie didn't understand. The duke had pulled back from her and shut the door to the room. Now he shoved his hand through his blond hair and scrubbed his jaw. He kept doing all these things that spoke of nerves, of regret, of some intense emotion coiled up inside him.

“Didn't you like it?” she asked again.

“I did.” He hesitated. Then continued, in his deep, hoarse voice, “But it was wrong. Wrong of me to plunder your innocence.”

“Even if I want you to?”

“I can't,” he growled. “Even if you want me to. For me, touching or kissing like that starts out hot and erotic and exciting, and then it changes.”

She gaped at him. Pure, raw agony showed on his face. He looked worse than she had when she'd cried herself sick after being thrown out of her house and being told she was actually the daughter of a whore, and her blood was as immoral and rotten as her mother's.

“What's wrong? I don't understand, Your Grace.”

“I can't explain it, Sophie. That kiss brought back a memory I don't want to have.”

“I did something wrong then.”

She'd felt his passion when he'd kissed. She'd felt his erection straining in his trousers. But also in the strong, sensual way his mouth moved over hers. His tongue had slipped into her mouth, and she'd been transfixed, realizing how much that mimicked sex, and she'd been sure he wanted her.

She wanted him. Even though she barely knew him—she
wanted
him.

It was just like with Samuel. She'd known, from the very first moment she saw him, she loved him.

She might be tumbling into love with the duke.

“You did everything right,” he said softly. “Except to choose to kiss me. I'm no good, Sophie. Tonight is making me realize that.”

“That can't be true!” she said in a fierce whisper.

He was
perfect
. He was everything she'd dreamed of in a protector.

He was watching her face, his handsome face drawn in a frown. “We're leaving,” he said abruptly.

 

Sophie gasped at the inside of the Duke of Caradon's carriage. Velvet seats of dark crimson, a polished wood floor, silk on the walls, and brass lights. The ceiling was painted with all the delicate beauty of an Italian master—she'd been raised in a doctor's house, and he had had a large library filled with books. One of Dr. Tucker's prize possessions had been beautiful plates of famous paintings of the Renaissance. This was every bit as spectacular.

Her heart drummed a song of hope. Caradon claimed he was taking her to a place to show her the error of her decision—to show her what happened to most hopeful courtesans. She had protested at first. She had to become a courtesan, no matter what.

But once the carriage started off, she realized what this meant.

He liked her!

He must care for her; otherwise, surely, he would have given up on her.

She knew he had not whisked her away from the ball because he had some nefarious intent. Why rescue her from Halwell if he had? And he'd stopped kissing her because he thought she was innocent. She would have to make him see she was not.

He had deposited her on the seat, where she faced the way they were traveling. He sat opposite. The carriage lamps made his hair glow like it was gold spun by fairies. His eyes were so unusual. In the light, they were as pale as diamonds—almost silvery.

She smiled at him, glowing with joy.

He looked at her with suspicion. “Why do you look so happy?”

She couldn't announce what she had figured out—that he liked her. She must be careful. In the book, her mother had pointed out that a woman must be able to tell when a man is smitten, and she must use that knowledge carefully. Sophie was not quite sure what was meant by “carefully,” but she knew she had to heed the advice.

“I am in a carriage with a handsome duke. It's rather exciting.” Joy bubbled into her voice.

“And you are hopelessly naïve. I haven't told you where we are going—though if I did, it would sound no safer. I told you I intended to show you the error of your decision to become a courtesan. You know nothing about me. I could be a damned evil villain, I could be intending to hurt you, and you still came into my carriage with me, trusting as a lamb.”

“I don't think I am naïve. People did say I have always been hopeful and always look for the good in things.” Well, she had, until she had been thrown out when enceinte. “Anyway, I can tell you don't want to hurt me.”

“You can't tell anything of the sort,” Caradon said shortly. “Some of the most cruel and vicious people hide their violence and perversions behind kind smiles.”

She shivered. “Are you warning me? I have known an evil man. See—I am not completely unknowing. I do know you are nothing like him, for example.”

“I won't hurt you, Sophie. But there are so-called gentlemen who will.”

“Yes, I do know that. They live in more places than London.” And one of them—Lord Devars—would have her in his clutches if she didn't get settled in a role as courtesan, if she didn't get money. “There is a solution. A way I know I won't end up with a terrible, dangerous man. I just have to convince you to take me on truly as your mistress. Isn't that why you were there? To find a mistress? I am more than willing to take on the role. And you would be perfect for me.”

He looked worn-out and rather grim. “How would I be perfect?”

“You are rather wonderful,” she said bluntly. “You're handsome. You came to my rescue. You are good and kind. And you are a duke. So you see, you are perfect.”

“You are the most remarkably ingenuous woman I've ever met.” He sighed.

Impulsively, she leaned forward and planted both of her hands on his knees. His legs were long, splayed so they fit in the carriage without bumping her legs. “But don't you see it would be the perfect solution? You get what you want. I get what I want.”

“Miss Ashley—”

But she jumped in. “You can't save me. I can't be saved. And I won't be, not at the expense of my family. It's my fault we are in such trouble—” She sank her teeth into her lip. Her words had run away with themselves.

Of course, he caught it at once. “Why is it your fault? What happened that you feel you have to ruin yourself?” His tone was filled with tenderness. He looked truly concerned.

He really did care about her.

And she cared terribly about him. Already.

But she could not tell him of what she'd done and that she had a child—and what she'd been forced to do when they'd needed money. “It's just that I'm the only one who can become a courtesan. And I have my book, so I know what to do and what to expect.”

“You have a book?”

“A memoir written by a famous London courtesan.” She couldn't help but speak with pride about her mother. She didn't know her mother's name, but from the journal, she knew her mother had been pursued by dukes, earls, and even royal princes. Mrs. Tucker had called her mother sinful. The woman admitted she had only agreed to take in Sophie because Dr. Tucker wanted to do it. Her mother had given them a lot of money to support her upbringing. But to the doctor, Sophie had been an experiment—the doctor believed a good upbringing in a decent household would result in a decent girl.

He had been proven wrong,
Mrs. Tucker had declared with venom.

The duke's voice brought her back to the present. “A book is what spurred you to come to London to become a courtesan? My God, Miss Ashley, you are so sweetly unsophisticated, it is a wonder you haven't plunged into trouble before.”