Page 18 of The Devil's Bargain
“Even when he... restrains them?”
“Especially then.” Flo’s knowing smile made Caroline flush deeper. “Some find surrender quite... liberating. Though that’s hardly something a respectable widow need concern herself with.”
But Caroline’s mind was already racing with possibilities she’d never dared contemplate, and from Flo’s amused expression, her thoughts were entirely too visible on her face.
“If anyone were to recognise me...” Caroline’s fingers twisted in her black mourning gown. She’d be cast out of everyrespectable circle in London, her reputation destroyed beyond salvation.
“Trust in my expertise, darling.” Flo’s eyes gleamed with professional pride. “Remember the story I shared about when I attended one of my father’s country parties?”
A laughter bubbled up in Caroline’s throat at the memory. “You went to steal from him to fund your rescue missions in those early days.”
“Yes. That was when I refused to run a brothel but quickly learned that I needed a source of income to continue the charity work. My own father didn’t recognise me then. A strategic veil, carefully placed... You’d be amazed how many gentlemen find mystery intoxicating. The forbidden allure of an unknown woman can loosen tongues far more effectively than wine.”
And so, a week later, Caroline found herself in the exclusive sanctuary of Madame Tansley’s private parlour. The room breathed wealth and discretion—thick Turkish carpets muffling footsteps, heavy velvet curtains shrouding gilt-framed mirrors, and everywhere the hushed murmur of men who ruled London’s financial world. These same men who would never deign to discuss business with a woman in proper society now spoke freely, assisted by liquid courage, believing themselves observed only by ignorant courtesans. She’d learned more about the Westminster contract in one hour than in weeks of proper business meetings.
Caroline adjusted her dark wig with care, the low-cut gown both armour and disguise. As she moved among the gentlemen serving drinks, she felt almost invisible. Just another pretty ornament in a room full of power. But beneath her carefully crafted façade, her mind recorded every whispered confidence, every carelessly dropped detail about contracts and negotiations that could never be learned in legitimate business circles.
Just when quiet descended on the brothel and Caroline thought about taking a rest, Flo approached her with purpose. “He’s here,” she whispered, drawing Caroline into a shadowed alcove. “Sage and Laura know to guide the conversation toward London Water Works. With the right... timing, let us hope he reveals more than he ought.”
Caroline followed Flo down a velvet-draped corridor to a small but elegantly appointed chamber. A hidden panel in the wall, cleverly disguised by ornate wallpaper, allowed sound to carry from the adjacent room.
“Stay here,” Flo instructed. “You’ll be able to hear everything of importance.”
Soon familiar voices drifted through the hidden panel. Devlin’s rich baritone made her pulse quicken despite herself. The rustling of fabric, soft feminine laughter, then a long masculine groan that sent heat pooling in her belly.
“Bring your sweet cunt over here, Sage,” she heard him command. Caroline gasped at his crude words, at how his voice had dropped to that silken purr she remembered from their own encounters. She told herself her quickened breathing was from indignation, not arousal.
“That’s it. Harder,” another female voice answered him, then Sage’s breathless moans filled the room. Whatever Devlin was doing to the woman was clearly skilled. The thought sent an unwelcome surge of jealousy through Caroline’s veins. Her hand crept between her thighs of its own accord, pressing against the ache that had built there.
“Bend over. Both of you,” he ordered. Caroline stifled her gasp with her free hand. The sounds that followed—rhythmic thumping, alternating feminine cries—painted an all too vivid picture. He was taking them both, switching between them with practiced ease. The realisation should have disgusted her.Instead, she found herself imagining his powerful body moving between them, those clever hands bringing pleasure...
Her fingers moved faster against her most intimate flesh as heat built in her core. She’d touched herself before, of course, but never like this, never while listening to such debauchery, never while imagining it was Devlin’s hands on her body instead of her own. When her peak hit, it took her by surprise with its intensity. She buried her face in her elbow to muffle her cry as pleasure crashed over her in waves.
The sounds from the other room stopped abruptly. Footsteps approached.
The door burst open, and Devlin stood in the doorway amidst securing his falls, his chiselled chest still heaving from his recent activities. His dark eyes blazed as they met hers.
“I demand you explain yourself at once, whoever you may be.” He strode forward and lifted her veil before she could stir. His expression shifted from anger to shock as recognition swept across his features. “Blast it all to hell, what are you doing here?”
Caroline lifted her chin, fighting the mortification that threatened to overwhelm her. Bad enough to be caught spying, but to be caught in such a compromising position, her cheeks still flushed from her own release...
“I suppose asking for discretion would be pointless?” she managed, proud of how steady her voice emerged.
His laugh held no humour. “Discretion? When I find a widow hiding in a brothel, pleasuring herself while listening to me fuck other women?’ He moved closer, backing her against the wall. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
“I wasn’t...” But the lie died on her lips as his hand caught her wrist, bringing her fingers to his nose. The scent of her arousal was unmistakable.
“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “I can smell how wet you are.” His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her against the hardevidence of his renewed desire. “Did you enjoy the show, my brilliant Caroline? Did it excite you, hearing me bring other women pleasure?”
“You’re despicable,” she whispered, but her body betrayed her by arching into his touch.
“Perhaps.” His mouth brushed her ear. “But I’m not the one who came here to spy. Tell me, Caroline. What were you hoping to discover? My business secrets?’ His hand slid lower, bunching her skirts. “Or something more... personal?”
“Both,” she admitted, gasping as his fingers found her sensitive flesh. “I needed... oh!”
“Information?” He chuckled darkly as his clever fingers played her body. “Or this?”
“Devlin, please...” She wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or continue.
