The School for Brides (41 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith

BOOK: The School for Brides
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In this moment, with this man, she wasn’t the proper and soon-to-be spinster Lady Seymour, but the reckless adventuress who climbed a trellis and into a window in the middle of the night, to return a necklace and kiss a handsome stranger with rigorous abandon.
“How desirable do you find me?” he said softly and tugged at a nipple through the thin cloth with his fingertips. She squelched a moan. Her legs threatened collapse and a warning chime sounded in her head.
There
was
something strange about this man that had nothing to do with his sensual appeal or the scandalous liberties she’d allowed him to take to save her hide. Yet, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what roused her suspicions, no matter how hard she tried to focus.
She leaned against him to stop the fondling and peered into his red-rimmed blue eyes. It was then she realized he’d had more than a few drinks this evening; enough to explain why he sounded and appeared slightly off to her. Not drunk enough to wobble or topple over, but enough for her to use to her advantage and extricate herself from the situation.
Noelle grinned. She’d found her opening. “The first time I saw your face in Hyde Park, I knew I had to have you, My Lord,” she lied. She pressed lightly on his chest with both hands, and he shuffled slowly backward toward the bed. He cupped her hips and they walked in a bumbling synchronization, locked together.
“When I discovered through gossip that your courtesan had flown your nest, I knew I had to get to you before the other women discovered her flight.” Noelle spoke in a hopeful, breathless tone. He stared down at her breasts and groaned. “Tonight, I plan to give you a taste of my many talents. Then tomorrow we shall come to an arrangement.”
Her seductive smile drew his eyes. He stared hungrily at her mouth and grinned. “I shall need to see everything.”
“Of course, My Lord,” she purred. This adventuress relied solely on instinct and snippets of conversations she’d overheard from Bliss and the other courtesans on how to please men. Now was not the time to show her inexperience. He had to believe she was who she said she was. Her life depended on her acting skills.
Thankfully, the man was not a warty toad.
The back of his knees hit the end of the bed and he stopped. He slid his hands from her hips to cup her buttocks. “Where would you like to start, Milady? We have all night.” He leaned to press his lips against her neck, and whiskers tickled her skin.
Noelle sighed seductively. “Here?” She lowered her hand to cup the large erection beneath his trousers and her face flamed at her boldness. She suspected he would be considered well endowed and required no padding to make it so.
Her innocent virgin sensibilities were replaced by more open curiosity as she caressed the bulge. What did an erect male member look like up close? Did it hurt the first time a man put it inside a woman? Would she eventually become used to having such a large thing inside her?
The earl’s second groan was deeper than his first. He nibbled along the curve of her jaw and his warm breath sent tingles across her skin. “Thus far, you have moved to the top of my list of potential mistresses.”
The flush on her face was a clear indication of her innocence, but she hoped he was too deep in his cups to notice.
“I have learned my craft well, My Lord.” A courtesan would not flush while enticing a man with her hand. Her shocking curiosity led her onward. With anonymity a perfect mask to hide behind, Noelle felt positively wicked, truly scandalous.
She would do anything to save herself from Newgate—even fondle the earl if it kept him from summoning the Runners. His lids drooped and for the first time he wavered on his bare feet. He pressed a kiss at the corner of her mouth and it was all she could do to not turn her face to accept his kiss. It was proving hard enough to keep him upright.
Noelle bit back a smirk and splayed both hands on his chest. She pushed gently and he fell limply back on the bed. She’d waste no time waiting for his drunken snores to make her escape. The necklace was on the vanity and he couldn’t place the missing piece in her hand. Even if he saw her at a social function, he wouldn’t match the proper Lady with the courtesan. The dim light and shadows, mixed with his inebriation, would keep him from putting Lady Seymour and the thief-courtesan together as one person.
“Good night, My Lord,” she said softly with one last look at his handsome face and hard chest as his lids began to droop over unfocused eyes. She shivered with regret.
And then she was gone.

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