Page 65 of In a Rake's Embrace
Agatha’s face burned at the deliberate crudeness, but she held her head high as Madam Rebecca looked at her approvingly.
“She blushes still, gentlemen,” Madam Rebecca noted with a knowing grin. “Isn’t that delightful? Lady W is yours to debauch. The bidding will begin after her dance.”
The room fell silent, the anticipation thickening as Agatha took her first step. As the flute sprang to life, the haunting melody wound around her like an unseen lover’s hands, coaxing her forwardandguiding her movements. She let the music settle into her bones, each note a shivering pulse in her blood. She swayed forward, her hips rolling to the steady rhythm, feeling the collective gaze of the audience, but her awareness centered solely on Thomas.
Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd, yet Agatha barely heard them. Her focus narrowed, sharpening to a single point. She was dancing for him alone. Lifting her arms gracefully above her head, Agatha arched her neck, feeling the weight of his gaze—hot and dark, brimming with an intensity she could almost touch. She met his eyes, holding them deliberately,a smile curving her lips as her hips swayed in a slow, sensual gyration meant to tempt. Heat rushed over her skin, and she knew the lavender-scented oil shimmering along her bare arms and midriff heightened her allure, catching the light like a thousand tiny stars.
It was as if the music poured into her veins, igniting a decadent fire that spread with each turn and arch of her body. Her hands traced down her sides, her fingers grazing her waistandhips, each movement a careful blend of elegance and enticement. She was aware of the way her skirt slit skimmed her thighs, teasing glimpses of her flesh with each roll and twist.
Her gaze flicked back to Thomas, and her heartbeat quickened. His heated stare sent a thrill down her spine. Agatha’s every step, sway, and glide was a silent challenge to him.
Look at me. Want me. Suffer for it.
A slight sheen of sweat slicked her skin, and she welcomed the heat. The feel of it made her more acutely aware of her own body. She felt powerful, beautiful, anddaring. When the music slowed, Agatha lowered her arms, her movements languid, her body curving in time with the final, lingering notes. She held Thomas’s gaze until the very end before finally turning to the crowd, catching her breath. In the charged silence that followed, her body thrummed with exhilaration, her heart still racing.
“Gentlemen,” Madam Rebecca called, her voice filled with practiced charm. “For five nights of bliss with Lady W, the bidding starts at one thousand pounds.”
Agatha’s heart leaped as a hand shot up almost immediately. “One thousand pounds.”
“Eleven hundred,” came another voice from somewhere in the back.
“Fifteen hundred!” someone else called.
Her pulse quickened as each voice echoed with a higher bid, a strange, taut anxiety twisting inside her. She raised her eyes to the balcony. Thomas’s gaze was unreadable, and with a small dip of his head, he stepped back from the railing, turning away from the bidding. He wouldn’t stay.
Her chest tightened painfully, and she bit the inside of her lip, the sharp sting grounding her. She blinked back the tears that threatened, heat prickling at the edges of her vision.
“Six thousand pounds!” a gentleman’s voice rang out, and the tremor running through her body was unmistakable.
Delight sparkled in Madam Rebecca’s eyes, but Agatha felt a mounting dread.
Don’t be silly, she told herself, pushing down the panic that coiled within her.
To her shock, the bidding continued with no sign of slowing.
“We’re at eight thousand pounds,” Madam Rebecca announced with a pleased smile. “Do we have another bid?”
“It seems Lord Humphrey will—”
“Eight thousand five hundred,” came Lord Humphrey’s steady reply.
“Nine thousand!” another voice called.
The room stilled, each breath held in suspense.
“Nine thousand two hundred,” Lord Humphrey raised, his voice edged with determination.
Lord Benedict surged to his feet, his eyes flashing. “Nine thousand five hundred.”
The air grew thick with anticipation as the bidding had narrowed to these two rivals.
“Ten thousand pounds!” Madam Rebecca’s voice rose, elation clear in her tone. “Do we have another bid?”
Agatha’s belly clenched, her fingers digging into her palms as she fought to remain poised.
Madam Rebecca waited a few beats and then said, “Lord Benedict—”
“Eleven thousand pounds,” a new voice cut through the din.
