Page 4 of The Duke of Fire
Sebastian, visibly irritated, caught her chin gently but firmly, disengaging from the woman.
“You know my rule, Clarice,” he said, firm but not cruel. “No repeats.”
“That is a shame,” she replied, pressing her lips into a thin line and straightening herself. “I am the best fun you will have on this side of town. Nobody expects you to marry someone from a brothel, you know.”
“Find me someone new,” he insisted. She left in a huff. Sebastian exhaled, unbothered.
She was clearly hurt, but Sebastian could do nothing about that. A woman in her trade should know better.
“Do you really intend to live by this rule forever?” Benedict murmured.
“That is the point,” Sebastian said, his face impassive. His expression was completely unreadable, something that he had mastered throughout the years he had pushed people away from him.
“I cannot blame you, I suppose,” Cassian said as he stretched his injured leg again. The man had been hiding his limp valiantly. For a moment, Sebastian wondered what it was like to love something so much to fight for it, like Cassian did for his country.
Avoiding anything that would shift the mood of their evening, he gave a low chuckle instead. His amusement, however, would die a natural death as time passed, and no woman had been brought before him. Meanwhile, masculine laughter and feminine giggling could be heard elsewhere.
Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “That is odd,” he muttered. “Clarice is normally faster.”
“Perhaps you have exhausted the roster,” Benedict said dryly.
“It is not hard to imagine,” Cassian agreed, reaching for another bottle of brandy. “We can at least spend money on something else. Someone here is going through divine punishment.”
“Unlikely,” Sebastian growled. He rose, his movements smooth but edged with growing irritation. “I shall find out what is going on.”
Sebastian stood. It was not about need—he could go without a woman tonight. But it was a matter of principle. He came toThe Blue Parrotto be served, not ignored. A courtesan had taken offense at something he said and disappeared without a word. That was unacceptable. No one walked away from him. Not without consequence.
With quick strides, he reached the front salon. The curtains all over the establishment were thick and drawn close, but he could tell that a storm raged outside. He heard the wind howl like a warning. A flash of lightning lit up the salon just as the front door slammed open. He uttered a curse.
A woman stumbled inside, looking disoriented. She was also soaked to the bone, trembling, but still devastatingly beautiful. She pressed a hand to her chest, gasping. It looked like she had run through the rain with nothing to protect her. Her eyes, unfocused as they might be at the moment, were luminous and wide.
Sebastian froze.
With him, time also did.
The lady, as he surmised she was, wore a modest dress. However, she was drenched through, her dress clingingobscenely to her form. What should have been modest was rendered indecent by the rain. Her curves were outlined in wicked, silken detail. Chest heaving. Lips parted. Eyes wild.
For a moment, Sebastian remained speechless. His eyes greedily scanning the clear outline of her curves. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her brown hair must have been braided in an updo, but soft tendrils now fell to her face, some clinging to her temples. Despite her disheveled state, he could not help but notice her pretty face. Those full cherry lips. He tried not to look back at her bosom.
“What the devil…” he muttered.
The woman glanced at him—startled, defiant.
“What are you doing in a place like this?” Sebastian finally found his voice.
“I might ask you the same thing, sir,” she shot back, straightening despite her shiver.
Sebastian tilted his head to the side. What was going on here? He tilted his head, intrigued. That accent. That posture. A lady, clearly. And yet, what was she doing here?
“Well, I do belong here,” he said with a smirk. “Can you say the same?”
“Of course, I have every right,” she snapped. “I will have you know that this is my business,” she said defiantly, anger flashing from her eyes. Something told him she was not having a good day. “You may find out that I have as much right to be here as any man.”
God, she was furious. And exquisite.
He folded his arms across his chest, chuckling softly. “That is a bold and radical statement, I would say.” Brave, this one. She was also obviously lost.
He stepped forward and took her arm. Not roughly—but insistently. He felt compelled to hide her, take her away from the prying eyes of others. She gasped as he steered her behind the wooden divider that obscured the parlor inside whenever people entered the front salon.
