Sin by Sharon Page

firelight. Unfortunately, the tails of his coat hid his sculpted derriere.
    “What…what are you doing, my lord?”
    He turned and flashed a grin, a lock of raven hair drifting over his eyes. Her heart gave a little jump as her gaze met his vivid turquoise eyes. Then he winked. “Checking for peepholes.”
    “Peepholes?” In that one word she realized that while she drew sinful pictures, she knew nothing of his world. “Goodness, people can watch us?”
    “Possibly. There are some in the wall between our rooms, so I can watch what you do when you believe you are all alone.” He infused such naughtiness that her nipples tightened beneath gown and shift.
    “Now that I know you are watching,” she protested, “I won’t do…things.”
    “What things won’t you do?” Spoken in his deep, sinfully suggestive baritone, the simple question sounded vastly wicked.
    She flushed, thinking of…not of scandalous things, but of using the chamber pot, and of other personal moments.
    Venetia sank down on the edge of her enormous bed, balanced on her slipper-clad toes.
    Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Why do you enjoy public sex?”
    He crossed the room and leaned against the bedpost nearest her, elegant and casual all at once. “It is the nature of men to posture before other men.”
    He tipped up her chin and bent down so his lips were just an inch from hers. “Imagine an audience of gentlemen watching you, all enraptured by the sight of your hands caressing your naked breasts, and all entranced by the sway of your hips as you ride your lover. You could make them all come just by the way you move your hips.”
    “Why do you do this?” she cried. “You tell me that I don’t belong at an orgy. You make me promise to dally with no one else, and then you…you tempt me, you arouse me until I can’t stop thinking of wild, scandalous things!”
    “Now that we know no one can see, you no longer need to be masked.” He pulled the strings, undoing the bow. Some hairs snagged and tugged at her scalp, and he whispered, “Sorry love.”
    Strangely, the quick apology made her heart flip. Why did the smallest gestures he made send her heart into palpitations?
    Thankful to be free of the mask, soft as it was, she watched as he laid it on the bed. It seemed a precious, beautiful gift, but it likely meant nothing to him. A mask was necessary and he would purchase the best because he expected nothing less.
    “I have something for you,” he said.
    She knew he would not answer her question, but she was trembling in anticipation. Something for her? He gave a wink, then left through the connecting door to his room. Leaving her alone on her enormous bed in her exquisite room. The bed was thoroughly decadent, a delightful confection of gleaming gilt and ivory silk, the mattress thick and soft. Above her, an elaborate canopy dripped tassels and bows. Fine ivory curtains were tied with forest green ropes. A mass of green velvet bolsters and pillows were strewn across the head.
    “I hope you like it.” He leaned in the doorway, a long blue box in his hands. A box of the sort her mother received from Rodesson. Her heart leapt into her throat.
    Marcus crossed the room in long, elegant strides. Struck dumb, she looked from his handsome face to the box and back. He looked pleased with himself. He yanked off the lid as he reached her.
    Green glittered at her. Emeralds. Dear heaven, emeralds . A necklace of a million winking stones and one magnificent pear-shaped one at the center. Within the loop of the necklace sat a matching bracelet and earbobs.
    “You may touch them. They are yours.”
    “M—mine?”
    “No one will believe you are my lover unless you wear a flamboyant token of my desire.” A grin widened his sensual lips. “Allow me.”
    He draped the cool necklace around her neck. At the brush of his fingers on her nape, she felt her legs quiver. “Emeralds to match the green in your eyes. And they look spectacular