Page 20 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
“Please,” she cried, “your wicked kisses are torture enough.”
Dark eyes burned her skin, “Another transgression. You are to speak only when I permit you. Had I permit you, Pet?”
“No,” Angelica shook her head, while tugging at her bonds. “My apologies, My Lord. It won’t happen again.”
Lucifer rounded the bed, like a lion stalking prey, except his prey was bound to a bed and bared to her skin. Hungrily, he mounted the bed, between her legs and perched over her on his knees. His rough hands slid up her legs, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind it…and a fiery yearning in her loins.
“What do you want, Pet?” he growled. “You are permitted to speak.”
“Please, touch me.”
Fingers met her swollen folds, and her legs came up to allow the touch, teasing more pleasure from her and just as fingers slid inside her wetness, stroking her walls. The heat of a wet mouth touched her, moments before a tongue ran over her pearl, and a scream erupted from Angelica’s chest.
“You will not spend,” Lucifer said darkly, “not until I say so.”.
Harriet’s hand drifted to her cheek, where the mark of Daniel’s kiss still burned. She wondered if, on the rarest chance, Daniel would take her innocence, if his touch would burn like his kiss. If so…she would follow Angelica and burn with pleasure.
* * *
Clad in a green velour dress with a gold panel with a black coat over it, Harriet boarded the coach just as Aunt Barbara joined her. Her Aunt was the only person available to be her chaperone as Martha was busy preparing for the next ball, and Emma was there to shoulder half of the burden.
Harriet was not bothered by her Aunt as Harriet felt that she was a loyal endorser of their engagement. As the vehicle started off to London, Aunt Barbara tapped her knee, “Fret not, Dear Harriet. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Frowning a little, Harriet said, “I’m not the least worried, Aunt. Why would you think so?”
“Oh!” Aunt Barbara laughed depreciatingly. “I’m sorry. It was something I’d said to Martha when the Baron was courting her, but I don’t see why I’d say that to you now. Lord Barkley is hardly as intimidating as Carrington was.”
Nodding, Harriet said, “No, he is not.”
“How do you find him, Dear?”
“A bit…broken, to be honest,” Harriet admitted. “Someone hurt him, and he has not gotten over it. It lingers with him, and I want to know how I can help him heal.”
“That’s lovely of you, Dear,” Aunt Barbara said. “Just like your sisters, you know, all willing to help others.”
Giving her aunt a tight smile, Harriet didn’t have to wait long until her Aunt drifted off to sleep. With privacy to think, Harriet began to wonder what her first lesson in flirting would be.
‘Tis most likely that trifle about canting my head and fluttering my lashes.
The very premise of being submissive churned her stomach. She had told Daniel about some aspects of her past, and how she preferred men’s pastimes more than women’s, but she had left out a key connection between them.
The years upon years of malicious teasing had forced her to grow resistant, to stand up for herself more than she had to. The aggression had taken a hold in her heart for years, and it came out in a burst of energy. Sitting still and doing needlepoint had bored her to tears, but riding at breakneck speed had not.
Looking back to the old home she had once lived in, and the village near it, she sighed out—none of the boys there had looked twice at her because she had bested them at one game or another. At her worst, none of them saw her as a woman, and at her best, some saw her as a mate, neither of which satisfied her.
“We’re here, Aunt,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes,” Aunt Barbara fanned Harriet away. “I’m quite all right.”
The coach stopped at the gate, and soon, the door was opened. It was a man, dressed in a dark livery, who identified himself as Lord Barkley’s footman. He helped Harriet out first and then gingerly handed Aunt Barbara out of the vehicle. After he took their coats, he turned to the stairs.
“Please, follow me, My Ladies,” he bowed.
The front room was unsurprisingly spartan. The dark-wood paneling and somber carpet underfoot had all the markings of a bachelor. A sweeping stairwell took them to the floor above where a drawing room, lined with bookshelves, waited for them.
“His Lordship will be a moment,” the footman said, bowing. “A maid will be with you, presently.”
After the servant left, Harriet went to the bookshelves and looked over the titles. There were books on almost every subject, from Astronomy to Biology, History, and Mathematics. She plucked one out on Persian Mythology, and the book opened to a page to find it open to:
