The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex Page A

how beautiful she appeared, or how she affected him. How the sight of her pale, apricot tinged skin made him ravenous with want.
    But before he cast his gun loose, he needed to solve the dilemma at hand. Please God, let him find what he needed. Quickly.
    He hunkered down in front of a cabinet to ease the tightness in his breeches. “Looking for vinegar. I told you, I’ll take care of it.”
    “I told you, I’m not useless. I want to help. Is this what you want?” She hauled up a labeled earthenware jug from under a counter.
    “Bravo, Lizzie.” He should have known she’d never stay where he put her, but she was nicely useful, as well as easy on the eye. He rummaged through a cabinet and found a mortar and pestle. He took out the pestle and filled the bowl with vinegar.
    “And now we need something to absorb the vinegar, like a rag or a sponge.”
    “Like for cleaning?” She was nosing in close behind him, watching his preparations with all of her natural curiosity on display.
    He took advantage of her closeness and dropped a kiss on her nose. And when she didn’t protest or pull away, he had to slide his fingers through her soft hair and inhale her light, citrusy fragrance. And kiss her on her soft, jam-colored mouth, and run a finger down the sweet valley between her breasts. Oh God, she was heaven.
    “More like for bathing.” The thought of that—having Lizzie pink and wet, steam whispering off her delicately glistening body—blanked his mind. His lungs felt tight and full at the same time. His only recourse was to share the erotic thought with her, to see if it could affect her in the same way. “Think of that, Lizzie,” he breathed into her ear, “of all the things wecan do. I’d like to bathe you. Draw a damp cloth all over your lovely, warm, wet body.”
    He could see her eyes widen and her nostrils flutter as he wove his hands into her hair, drawing the ginger silk back over her shoulder and tugged gently, just enough to nudge her head back. The curls leapt and tangled around his hand like a vine, as if even this part of Lizzie could not remain still. He ran the backs of his fingers lightly down the curve of her exposed neck to the delicate hollow where he could feel the hectic beating of her pulse. The contrast between the porcelain fragility of her body and the formidable strength of her will was endlessly fascinating.
    “So many things to do with you.” He made the words low and soft, the complete opposite of the tense coil of need spiraling through his groin. No one was going to stop him this time. He would explore her to his heart’s delight and learn every last secret of her body. He could at long last replace fantasy with reality.
    She moved a little apart, out from under his hands, aroused now, but still unsettled. He let her go, forcing his desultory attention to return to the cupboards. He had made her a promise. This one at least, he could and would keep.
    Lizzie pulled a slatted basket off a shelf. “What about sea sponges? Collected from the beach, I suppose. Will they do?” Was there a hint of urgency in her voice?
    “Perfect.” He picked out a small damson-sized sponge and held it up for her edification. “There you have it, Lizzie—the means to your seduction.”
    “That? Seduction?” She tried to steady and shield herself with that veneer of worldliness. “You’d be better off with your little flask of whisky.”
    Ah, now they were in familiar seas. He set his hands about her waist and lifted her up onto the table. She weighed nothing, a bare handful of a woman. Her apricot-ripe mouth came almost level to his, as did several other, more pertinent parts. Perfect.
    “Is that what you’d like?” He reached slowly into the inner pocket of his coat as it hung off her shoulders, making sure the back of his hand brushed lightly against the flutter of fabric covering the peak of her breast. He drew the flask out and uncorked it. “Then by all means, have a wee dram.”
    He