treasure, split in half when we find it,” he said. “For each hand I lose, one percent more of the money we find will be yours.”
“Ah! And if I lose, that one percent shifts to you,” she guessed.
“No.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll take my winnings now in satin.”
“How do you mean?” she asked, thankful he couldn’t see her puzzled frown behind the half mask.
He reached forward and gave the top ribbon on her camisole a tug. The knot gave and her bodice sagged open enough to bare the meeting place of her breasts above her pounding heart.
“Do we have a wager?” he asked. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose?”
A true
courtesan
wouldn’t be able to resist such a naughty game.
“Ah !
Monsieur le Vicomte
, either way I win.” Daisy shuffled the cards with more bravado than she felt and dealt the hand.
She lost the first round and, with resignation, started to untie the next ribbon.
“No, no,” he said. “Allow me.”
Very slowly he pulled the end of the bow, and Daisy felt her supportive camisole give a bit. More of her breasts spilled out. Still not as much as he’d already seen that first night at the masquerade, but enough that the heat of his gaze made her skin flush rosily.
And between her legs, her still-hairless folds began to ache. She shifted on her seat, but nothing eased the throbbing.
Before he drew his hand back, he pushed the edges of thesatin camisole aside, brushing her exposed skin with his fingertips as he did so. Now her nipples were scarcely covered. In fact, if the hard little points weren’t holding up the fabric, she’d be bared already.
Another lost hand, or even a deep breath, and…
“There,” he said. “Much better. No point in unfastening that contraption if the blasted thing stays in place.”
“We did not wager on touching. Merely on satin,” she reminded him.
“Perhaps we should amend the wager then,” he said. “When I win, I may touch what ever I see.”
Lucian drew his knuckles softly over the swell of her breast. A jolt of heat lightning streaked to her belly and stayed to simmer in an ever-tightening circle of warmth.
“Then we should adjust the wager the other way as well,” she said. “How shall you feel if I lay claim to your breeches buttons with each hand that falls my way?”
He chuckled. “Ah! Mlle La Tour, either way, I win.”
She’d blundered badly and she knew it, but she was momentarily saved when Nanette rapped at the door with their supper. If the maid noticed that Daisy was showing a good bit more skin than when she last saw her, Nanette was tactful enough not to show surprise. She laid out the fine china and silver for them, and left with a wink and a smile, but fortunately no comment.
Daisy lifted the silver chafing lids.
Oysters and chocolate. Aphrodisiacs both. As if Lucian needs that sort of encouragement!
Lucian helped himself to a couple of oysters while she poured tea for them.
“How did you find the assistant I sent’round to represent me?” She dropped a lump of sugar into his tea and added a dollop of sweet cream.
“I take it you mean Miss Drake?” he asked, dabbing at his lips with a linen napkin. “She’s competent.”
Competent! Was that all the man could say for her?
“I understand she’s an accomplished Latin scholar,” Daisy said primly.
“Is that why you sent her?”
“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “The dear girl did confess to me that she is extremely interested in Roman antiquities.”
“I’m well aware of the
dear girl’s
…curiosity about them,” he said.
“Then, too, she’s my hostess’s great-niece, so it was the politic thing to do,” Daisy said, wishing she’d never broached the subject.
“I was surprised that you didn’t send a man who could help with the actual labor,” he said as he selected a piece of chocolate and offered it to her.
She allowed him to tease the sweet treat over her bottom lip before popping it into her open mouth.
“Ah! And if I lose, that one percent shifts to you,” she guessed.
“No.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll take my winnings now in satin.”
“How do you mean?” she asked, thankful he couldn’t see her puzzled frown behind the half mask.
He reached forward and gave the top ribbon on her camisole a tug. The knot gave and her bodice sagged open enough to bare the meeting place of her breasts above her pounding heart.
“Do we have a wager?” he asked. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose?”
A true
courtesan
wouldn’t be able to resist such a naughty game.
“Ah !
Monsieur le Vicomte
, either way I win.” Daisy shuffled the cards with more bravado than she felt and dealt the hand.
She lost the first round and, with resignation, started to untie the next ribbon.
“No, no,” he said. “Allow me.”
Very slowly he pulled the end of the bow, and Daisy felt her supportive camisole give a bit. More of her breasts spilled out. Still not as much as he’d already seen that first night at the masquerade, but enough that the heat of his gaze made her skin flush rosily.
And between her legs, her still-hairless folds began to ache. She shifted on her seat, but nothing eased the throbbing.
Before he drew his hand back, he pushed the edges of thesatin camisole aside, brushing her exposed skin with his fingertips as he did so. Now her nipples were scarcely covered. In fact, if the hard little points weren’t holding up the fabric, she’d be bared already.
Another lost hand, or even a deep breath, and…
“There,” he said. “Much better. No point in unfastening that contraption if the blasted thing stays in place.”
“We did not wager on touching. Merely on satin,” she reminded him.
“Perhaps we should amend the wager then,” he said. “When I win, I may touch what ever I see.”
Lucian drew his knuckles softly over the swell of her breast. A jolt of heat lightning streaked to her belly and stayed to simmer in an ever-tightening circle of warmth.
“Then we should adjust the wager the other way as well,” she said. “How shall you feel if I lay claim to your breeches buttons with each hand that falls my way?”
He chuckled. “Ah! Mlle La Tour, either way, I win.”
She’d blundered badly and she knew it, but she was momentarily saved when Nanette rapped at the door with their supper. If the maid noticed that Daisy was showing a good bit more skin than when she last saw her, Nanette was tactful enough not to show surprise. She laid out the fine china and silver for them, and left with a wink and a smile, but fortunately no comment.
Daisy lifted the silver chafing lids.
Oysters and chocolate. Aphrodisiacs both. As if Lucian needs that sort of encouragement!
Lucian helped himself to a couple of oysters while she poured tea for them.
“How did you find the assistant I sent’round to represent me?” She dropped a lump of sugar into his tea and added a dollop of sweet cream.
“I take it you mean Miss Drake?” he asked, dabbing at his lips with a linen napkin. “She’s competent.”
Competent! Was that all the man could say for her?
“I understand she’s an accomplished Latin scholar,” Daisy said primly.
“Is that why you sent her?”
“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “The dear girl did confess to me that she is extremely interested in Roman antiquities.”
“I’m well aware of the
dear girl’s
…curiosity about them,” he said.
“Then, too, she’s my hostess’s great-niece, so it was the politic thing to do,” Daisy said, wishing she’d never broached the subject.
“I was surprised that you didn’t send a man who could help with the actual labor,” he said as he selected a piece of chocolate and offered it to her.
She allowed him to tease the sweet treat over her bottom lip before popping it into her open mouth.
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