first, Miss Sparkler?"
Torn between relief and annoyance, she gave a curt nod. He reached over, and her pulse leapt at his nearness. As he ran his hands gently over her hair, his subtle cologne teased her senses. The masculine combination of cedar and musk warmed her insides, made them quiver.
In desperation, she tried to concentrate on something else. She counted the grey stripes on his waistcoat. One stripe, two, three … when he moved, the fabric stretched over his chest, molding perfectly to the rigid musculature. Perspiration bloomed on her skin as she recalled the sensation of that virile form crushing her body, her breasts pressing against unyielding sinew—
"Well?" Dr. Frankel's voice jolted her.
To her mortification, she realized her nipples were puckered and stiff beneath her bodice. Gulping, she slanted a glance downward: thank goodness nothing showed through the layers of her unmentionables! But she'd been so distracted that once again she'd lost track of what the doctor was asking.
Mr. Fines spoke up. "Can't feel a thing, I'm afraid. Too much hair. Beg pardon, Miss Sparkler," he said, "but know that your sacrifice is in the interest of science."
Before she could register the meaning of his words, a brown lock fell into her eyes. Then another. Mr. Fines was plucking out her pins! Her hands flew to her head in panic, but it was too late: her topknot toppled, waves tumbling madly over her shoulders.
She heard a collective titter rise from the crowd and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment … and anger . How could the bounder humiliate her so? What had she ever done to him? As heat prickled her eyes, she aimed her gaze at the ground.
Hold it together. Don't let him see you cry.
"So that's what you've been hiding. But … why?"
The note of wonder in his voice permeated her disgrace. She peered up through her lashes. What she saw lodged her breath in her throat. His vivid gaze was admiring, his expression impossibly sincere.
Dazed, she heard him murmur, "How fetching you are, sweeting. Quite the prettiest little thing I've ever laid eyes on. That disguise of yours is criminal."
Disguise? Criminal? Her head spun at the implication of his words— Thwack. She jerked as Dr. Frankel's pointer connected with the podium.
"Proceed," the doctor said sternly. "No time for shilly-shallying."
"Right-o." Mr. Fines gave her a tender—tender!—smile. "Shall we, Miss Sparkler?"
Before she could reply, his hands slid into the loose mass of her hair. His touch sent shocks over her scalp, down her neck and arms. She pressed her lips together for fear that she might moan aloud with pleasure. With each fettered breath, the taut tips of her breasts chafed against her corset; petals of heat unfurled in her belly. All too aware of observing eyes, she squirmed, praying her stimulated state did not show.
"Describe for us the general landscape of her skull," Dr. Frankel instructed. "Note any asymmetry or imbalances between the left and right sides."
Mr. Fines brushed the curve of her ear, and that sensation amplified the illicit tingling at her breasts, the dampening between her legs. Shivering, she restrained herself from nudging against his hand like an eager kitten.
"I can detect no imbalances. Her head is exceptionally smooth … and lovely," he said in a husky tone, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the audience.
" Lovely is not a term employed in craniology, sir. Focus." The doctor aimed an austere gaze over his spectacles. "How would you describe the subject's orbital-parietal region?"
"Perfectly formed."
Pleasure suffused her as Mr. Fines gently massaged her scalp. Her neck muscles grew so warm and lax that she could scarcely keep her head up.
"And the shape of the protuberances? Rounded or flat?" Dr. Frankel inquired.
"Rounded."
"Size—full or scant?"
"Somewhere in between, I'd say." Mr. Fines' gaze dipped to her bodice, wicked heat flaring in those
Torn between relief and annoyance, she gave a curt nod. He reached over, and her pulse leapt at his nearness. As he ran his hands gently over her hair, his subtle cologne teased her senses. The masculine combination of cedar and musk warmed her insides, made them quiver.
In desperation, she tried to concentrate on something else. She counted the grey stripes on his waistcoat. One stripe, two, three … when he moved, the fabric stretched over his chest, molding perfectly to the rigid musculature. Perspiration bloomed on her skin as she recalled the sensation of that virile form crushing her body, her breasts pressing against unyielding sinew—
"Well?" Dr. Frankel's voice jolted her.
To her mortification, she realized her nipples were puckered and stiff beneath her bodice. Gulping, she slanted a glance downward: thank goodness nothing showed through the layers of her unmentionables! But she'd been so distracted that once again she'd lost track of what the doctor was asking.
Mr. Fines spoke up. "Can't feel a thing, I'm afraid. Too much hair. Beg pardon, Miss Sparkler," he said, "but know that your sacrifice is in the interest of science."
Before she could register the meaning of his words, a brown lock fell into her eyes. Then another. Mr. Fines was plucking out her pins! Her hands flew to her head in panic, but it was too late: her topknot toppled, waves tumbling madly over her shoulders.
She heard a collective titter rise from the crowd and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment … and anger . How could the bounder humiliate her so? What had she ever done to him? As heat prickled her eyes, she aimed her gaze at the ground.
Hold it together. Don't let him see you cry.
"So that's what you've been hiding. But … why?"
The note of wonder in his voice permeated her disgrace. She peered up through her lashes. What she saw lodged her breath in her throat. His vivid gaze was admiring, his expression impossibly sincere.
Dazed, she heard him murmur, "How fetching you are, sweeting. Quite the prettiest little thing I've ever laid eyes on. That disguise of yours is criminal."
Disguise? Criminal? Her head spun at the implication of his words— Thwack. She jerked as Dr. Frankel's pointer connected with the podium.
"Proceed," the doctor said sternly. "No time for shilly-shallying."
"Right-o." Mr. Fines gave her a tender—tender!—smile. "Shall we, Miss Sparkler?"
Before she could reply, his hands slid into the loose mass of her hair. His touch sent shocks over her scalp, down her neck and arms. She pressed her lips together for fear that she might moan aloud with pleasure. With each fettered breath, the taut tips of her breasts chafed against her corset; petals of heat unfurled in her belly. All too aware of observing eyes, she squirmed, praying her stimulated state did not show.
"Describe for us the general landscape of her skull," Dr. Frankel instructed. "Note any asymmetry or imbalances between the left and right sides."
Mr. Fines brushed the curve of her ear, and that sensation amplified the illicit tingling at her breasts, the dampening between her legs. Shivering, she restrained herself from nudging against his hand like an eager kitten.
"I can detect no imbalances. Her head is exceptionally smooth … and lovely," he said in a husky tone, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the audience.
" Lovely is not a term employed in craniology, sir. Focus." The doctor aimed an austere gaze over his spectacles. "How would you describe the subject's orbital-parietal region?"
"Perfectly formed."
Pleasure suffused her as Mr. Fines gently massaged her scalp. Her neck muscles grew so warm and lax that she could scarcely keep her head up.
"And the shape of the protuberances? Rounded or flat?" Dr. Frankel inquired.
"Rounded."
"Size—full or scant?"
"Somewhere in between, I'd say." Mr. Fines' gaze dipped to her bodice, wicked heat flaring in those
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