Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (12 page)

She reached for a ladle on a nearby table, dunked it and used it to rinse off the soap. Shortly, she was clean and slippery and fragrant. She dropped the ladle on the floor.

“Now what?”she inquired.

“Climb out. Dry yourself.”

She complied, her acquiescence titillating him, goading him to recklessness.

He avidly observed as she rubbed a towel over her skin, beginning at her shoulders and slowly working to her toes. She tossed the towel away, then straightened.

“Finished?”he inquired.

“Yes.”

“Take your hair down.”

She yanked out the combs, and the blond mass swept down in a golden wave.

“Come here.”

He was still seated on the stool and eye to eye with her pussy. Several tortured seconds passed before she could move. She took a hesitant step, then another.

“What are you going to do to me?”she asked.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“I’m not very experienced at this. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me, and I’m not sure what you want.”

“I’ll tell you.”

He clutched her ass and brought her close. He sniffed at her, touched her, slid a finger inside. Then he stroked his tongue across her.

She squealed with surprise and attempted to squirm away, but he wouldn’t release her.

She frowned. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I was dying to learn how you taste.”

“How I taste?”

“Yes.”

Her bewildered expression apprised him that she might be married, but she was correct: She wasn’t very experienced.

He unbuttoned the flap on his trousers, freed his cock, then guided her down. In a quick instant, he was fully impaled. They were awkwardly positioned, sitting on the low stool with little to balance them. Her legs were spread wide, straddling his lap.

“Ride me,”he told her.

“What does that mean?”

He clasped her flanks and shifted her back and forth, teaching her the rhythm, showing her how. At first, it was a bit clumsy, but she rapidly figured out a tempo that satisfied her.

Clearly, she’d never been on top or been in charge, and he let her have fun and explore, delighted with whatever she chose to try.

Their passion escalated, her body tensing. He latched on to a nipple, sucking hard, and with an anguished gasp, she shattered and cried out. He held her through the tumult, elated as she soared to the peak, as she tumbled down. She collapsed against him.

“What was that?”she wheezed when she could speak again.

He smirked. “It was sexual pleasure.”

“There’s pleasure in this?”

He laughed. “Yes, my dear trollop. There’s significant pleasure in this.”

She looked perplexed and perturbed. “I didn’t know.”

“Obviously.”

She studied him, confusion rocking her, then she asked, “Can we do it again?”

“We can do it all night if you want.”

She grinned. “I think I…
want
. I think I do.”

He set her away, stood, and tucked his phallus into his trousers. He nodded to the door. “Get into bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my turn, and I’d like to lie down where I can be more comfortable.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Hook.”

She saluted as if she was a lowly private in the army. Then she scurried away and leapt onto the mattress. He followed more slowly. They had until dawn, and there was no reason to hurry. No reason at all.

* * * *

“Come in, Sarah.”

“What do you want?”

Mildred silently observed as Sarah entered the room. She was sullen and grim, and Mildred had had to send a housemaid three times to request her presence before she’d finally complied with Mildred’s demand for a meeting.

If the stupid girl was irate over their squabble, wait until she learned the ramifications of Hedley’s latest debacle.

They were in Mildred’s suite and locked away from the rest of the house. Hedley paced in the corner. He hadn’t slept. His clothes were disheveled, and he reeked of alcohol.

She’d loved him so fervidly that her entire life had been given over to positioning him so he could become a grand gentleman in society. She didn’t think that type of potent affection could vanish, but maybe it could.

She swallowed down a wave of rage that was so intense, she worried she might choke to death on it.

“Sit down,”she told Sarah, and she motioned to the chair across.

Sarah trudged over and plopped down, and she appeared as awful as Hedley. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she hadn’t dressed her hair. It hung down her back and was tied with a single ribbon.

“What do you want?”Sarah asked again. “And please be brief. I’m not feeling very well and—for obvious reasons—I’m not too keen on speaking with you right now.”

“I don’t need quite so much attitude from you.”

Sarah snorted. “I don’t need quite so much from you either.”

“There are matters we must discuss, and it will be easier if we can remain courteous and cordial.”

Sarah sneered at Hedley, “You don’t look so good. Rough night?”

“A very rough night,”he grumbled.

“How was the card game?”

Hedley diligently ignored her, so Mildred had to respond for him.

“It went as badly as could be expected.”

“So everything is still lost?”

“Yes. Everything is lost.”

“Is Mr. Sinclair tossing us out immediately? Should I return to my room and pack my bags?” Her hot, furious gaze landed on Hedley. “Or have you gambled away my clothes, too?”

“We don’t have to leave immediately,”Mildred advised.

“When, then?”

“He’s given us a month—with certain conditions attached.”

“What conditions?”

“Hedley will explain.”

Hedley blanched. “Mother! I can’t tell her. Don’t make me!”

“It’s your fiasco, Hedley. It’s your duty to inform her.”

“Inform me of what?”Sarah snapped.

Mildred braced, terrified over how Sarah would react to the news. Sarah had to be handled carefully, had to be led in the right direction.

Mr. Sinclair wouldn’t allow Sarah to balk, and if she tried, he’d force her to comply
and
he’d evict Mildred. Since Sarah would have to relent, why should Mildred suffer?

There was no option for Sarah except to say
yes,
and it was pointless to wait for Hedley to clarify the details. He’d only make Sarah angrier than she already was, would only make her agreement harder to obtain.

Mildred said, “There has been a bump in the road in our negotiations with Mr. Sinclair.”

“What sort of
bump
?”

“We requested thirty days to vacate, and in order for him to permit it, he demanded a surety to guarantee our departure.”

“What surety? You just admitted there was nothing left.”

Hedley spat, “There was one thing left.”

“Be silent, Hedley,”Mildred said, as Sarah asked, “What was it?”

“Mr. Sinclair is…smitten by you.”

Sarah guffawed. “Smitten? By me? You’re joking.”

“No, he’s very intrigued.”

Sarah studied Mildred, then Hedley, then Mildred again. Her distrust was palpable. “So he’s intrigued by me,”she warily mused. “What are you saying?”

“He’d like to spend some time with you.”

“He wants to spend
time
with me?”

“Yes.”

“How much time?”

Mildred tamped down her nerves. “The next month.”

Sarah frowned, grappling to decipher what was really happening.

“I’m confused,”she finally said.

“That’s understandable.” Mildred was all smiles, all commiseration.

“What exactly is he asking me to do?”

“Well, he thinks you’re very pretty, and you’ve never been married. In cases like this, a man will occasionally suggest a…ah…that is…”

Mildred simply couldn’t blurt it out.

She’d never liked Sarah, but she’d never wished her to come to any actual harm. If Sarah succumbed to Mr. Sinclair’s advances, there would be no hope for her later on. She’d never be able to wed, and with how their luck was running, she’d likely wind up with a babe in her belly. But her situation wouldn’t matter to him. When he was through with her, he’d ride off into the sunset.

For a fleeting moment, Mildred flushed with shame. Bernard had bequeathed a fine dowry to Sarah, but Hedley had squandered it. Mildred had been too shocked to confess the theft to Sarah, so she’d lied and claimed there had been no dowry.

If Mildred had stood up to Hedley, if she’d declined to turn over the bank accounts, she could have used the money as it was intended by Bernard. Sarah would be wed, with a husband and home of her own. Hedley’s shenanigans would have had no effect, because Mildred could have prevailed on Sarah to take her in, and Sarah would have. She was kind that way, kind as Mildred had never known how to be.

It was one more sin to lay at Hedley’s feet. One more disaster that he’d orchestrated. Would the catastrophes ever end?

“Spit it out, Mildred,”Sarah barked.

“I can’t say it.” Looking bleak, Mildred glared at Hedley. “You have to tell her.”

Mildred glowered until Hedley realized she wouldn’t yield. He stumbled over and sat next to Sarah. He clasped her hand.

“My dearest sister,”he started, and Sarah yanked away.

“What have you done now?”she hissed.

“Mr. Sinclair has agreed to…to…have you as his mistress.”

“No!”

“Yes.” Hedley nodded as if he could coax her into it.

“No!” She leapt up and lurched to the other side of the room.

“It’s for thirty days, Sarah,”Hedley cajoled. “He’s a handsome fellow. It won’t be so bad.”

“I won’t do it,”she fumed. “I don’t care what you wagered. I don’t care what you arranged with him. I won’t do it!”

A hard gleam infused Hedley’s gaze. “If you refuse, we have to depart immediately. Can you go upstairs and pack your bag, Sarah? Can you make Mother? Can you make Caroline?”

Sarah was so angry, she was shaking. She pointed a condemning finger at Hedley. “How dare you put me in this predicament! If Father was alive, what would he think of you?”

The mention of Bernard was too much for Hedley. Hedley had yearned to impress Bernard, but never had. Bernard had always complained that Hedley was lazy and spoiled, that he didn’t try or apply himself.

They’d often quarreled over what Bernard had viewed as Hedley’s hollow traits, and Hedley couldn’t bear to have Bernard cited, because they were all aware of what Bernard’s opinion would have been.

He stomped to his own corner, and brother and sister scowled like pugilists in opposite sides of the ring.

“Before this goes any farther,”Sarah ultimately said, “there’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“I talked to Mr. Sinclair. I begged him to give the estate back to us.”

“Yes, and we can see how well you succeeded,”Hedley jeered.

“He told me a secret about his past.”

“What is it?”Mildred asked.

“He claims he is Florence’s son.”

Mildred gasped. “He what?”

“He has an old vendetta against you, and he traveled here deliberately to destroy you. He used Hedley to accomplish it.”

Mildred’s mind raced. Hadn’t she once speculated over Sinclair’s surname? Hadn’t she wondered if he was related to the despicable rogue, Charles Sinclair?

She struggled to recall Mr. Sinclair’s face, tried to decide if he resembled Florence. But it had been three decades since Florence had fled England. It was so difficult to remember her features.

“He had to be jesting,”Mildred insisted. “He can’t be kin to us.”

“He wasn’t jesting,”Sarah replied. “He was very, very serious. What did you do to him, Mildred? Why is he so angry with you?”

“I did nothing to him!”she insisted, but she had to glance away.

As a boy, he’d written to her, and she vividly recollected the letter. Florence had been gravely ill, and he’d been terrified and alone. He’d pleaded for money, for help. Mildred should have ignored his appeal—Bernard had sternly advised her to—but she’d been so bitter over Florence and the disasters she’d wrought by running off with Charles Sinclair.

Her rash act had wrecked numerous lives. Mildred’s parents had died of shame. Florence’s husband had died of shame too, but he’d drowned himself with alcohol. Her two young boys had had to be raised without a mother, had had to endure a lifetime of censure, while watching their father waste away. Mildred had had to marry Bernard, had tumbled down society’s ladder until she’d arrived at the bottom.

The very least her sister had deserved was a severe scolding for all the damage she’d caused. Mildred had viciously responded to the boy’s letter, apprising him of what she thought of his mother, that he should wallow in the filthy trough Florence had dug for both of them.

Could Mr. Sinclair really be Florence’s son? Could it be possible? Could a caustic letter still have him raging decades later?

She nearly wailed with dismay.

It wasn’t Mildred’s fault that Florence had been seduced by Charles Sinclair. It was Florence’s fault—and Charles Sinclair’s fault. John Sinclair was the very worst sort of illegitimate bastard. If he wanted to blame someone for his troubles, the true culprits were his own selfish, debauched parents.

“You did nothing to Florence’s son?”Sarah scoffed. “Why don’t I believe you? Mr. Sinclair is positively bent on vengeance. How much will we allow him to take from us? And why must
I
accommodate him? I didn’t even know Florence. Why is this calamity landing on me?”

“He’s not Florence’s boy,”Mildred staunchly declared. “The last I heard, and from very reliable sources, the child died of consumption in Paris a year after Florence passed away.”

“He
is
her son,”Sarah shouted, “and look at the havoc he’s wreaking! Tell me how to stop it! Tell me how to stop
him
!”

Mildred couldn’t have the discussion descend to bickering and bellowing. They all had to remain calm. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but we’re all in a state. I need you to compose yourself and give me your answer.”

“My answer to what?”

“We must make arrangements as to where we’ll be living in another month. I’ve written to Caroline’s husband to come fetch her.”