Page 13 of A Touch Wicked
Tonight.
“Alexandra?”
They were together in the drawing room, reading as the rain poured outside. Well, Emma was staring at the words; she couldn’t remember when she had last turned a page.
The earl’s sister was at the window seat, engrossed in one of her romances. She didn’t even look up. “Hmm?”
Emma set her own book aside. “I was wondering . . . may I borrow your friend’s mask again tonight?” She cleared her throat, rather awkwardly. “And another dress. If you don’t mind.”
Alexandra’s lips curved into a delighted smile when she looked over. “So, you did enjoy yourself last time. I'd hoped you would bring it up.”
“Yes.” Emma’s cheeks heated. “That is . . . yes.”
Her friend laughed. “Oooh, it must have been deliciously wicked. Tell me everything. In detail, if you please.”
“Well.”Lord, please kill me now.“We kissed. And then we—”
“For god’s sake.” Alexandra shut her book and waved it in the air. “If I wanted to know about kissing, I’d ask anybody. How does he look without clothes? How big is his co—”
“Alexandra!” Well, if Emma wanted an implication to the non-existent state of Alexandra’s virtue, she had it now. “Why don’t you admire your own lover nude?”
“If I had taken a lover, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Oh.” Emma bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I assumed you did.”
The other woman tilted her head. “Did you? Whatever gave you that impression?”
Bloody hell. This was why one should never make assumptions about another woman’s business. “You—” her voice lowered to a whisper — “go out at night. All the time.”
Alexandra didn’t look at all offended. If anything, she was only more amused. Her teeth flashed in a grin. “And?”
“And . . .” Emma was at a loss for words. “If you’re not meeting anyone, then where do you go?”
“I’ll never tell.” Alexandra winked and opened her book again. “The mask is in the trunk in my closet, and the dress you’ll want is at the back. The red velvet. Wear it without a corset, like the other.”
Emma rose, uncertain and more than a little confused by how easily her friend changed the subject. If not a lover, what kept Alexandra out until the early hours of morning? Emma could have asked, but all ladies had a right to their own secrets. After all, Emma had no right to judge Alexandra; her own had the potential to destroy their friendship.
It’s one more night. She need never know.
You want too much,Emma thought to herself as she headed for the door.Always too much.
She paused when Alexandra called her name. “Yes?”
She heard the smile in her friend’s voice. “If I recall correctly, the buttons up the back of the dress are very delicate. So easily ripped. If you return it in a less than ideal condition, I’ll understand.”
Emma laughed to herself all the way up the stairs. She rounded the corner into the family wing and collided, quite literally, with the source of her nightly torment.
James's hands were on her shoulders to steady her. Emma could barely breathe when he touched her.
“Easy,” James said.
His voice was polite, casual, but she recalled the way he whispered in her ear when he took her.I could fuck you every second of every day, he’d said when he’d made love to her again. He’d spoken in a rich, low murmur, almost like a purr.
Emma had felt it all the way down her spine. And when he touched her—
“Miss Dumont.” He interrupted her thoughts. “Are you quite all right? You look rather ill.”
When she looked up at him, his expression was one of polite concern. As if she were . . .
