Page 64 of In a Rake's Embrace
The words felt almost brittle, and though he kept his tone curt, something pained lingered in his chest.
“I see,” she murmured. “Thomas … I will … miss you.”
Damn it all to hell. Her words burned into him.I will miss you, too, Agatha. Yet he didn’t say it aloud. Instead, he dipped his head, cupping her face gently as he pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss.
“Farewell, Agatha. I hope you find success this evening.”
“Thank you, Thomas, and thank you for all your lessons. Tonight would not have been possible without your help.”
He turned abruptly, leaving her chamber.
“Oh, God,” she whispered just as he shut the door behind him, her voice a soft echo in his mind.
Thomas forced himself down the stairs, his footsteps echoing louder than his own racing pulse.
What the hell was wrong with him? He pressed his hand to his chest, startled by the ache that had taken root there. He wanted to turn back, to tell her how she lingered in his thoughts, her laughter and quick wit like a lure. Agatha Woodville was a woman he was certain would haunt him—not just in the coming weeks, but perhaps for years.
Perhaps, he thought with dark resolve, if he had her, truly had her, even for one night, he could put her from his mind. Perhaps if he made love to her in every wicked way he’d imagined, she would no longer hold this grip on him.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to move back up those stairs.
Snarling under his breath, he forced the thought away and made his way to the first floor. The grand gambling room had been transformed, the usual smoke-filled air now charged withan air of mystery and anticipation. Heavy drapes cloaked the room in shadow, lit only by candelabras casting an amber glow. He took his place on the upper balcony, out of sight but able to see her clearly.
Only a few minutes, and then he would leave.
CHAPTER 23
Agatha’s fingernails dug painfully into her palms. She released her fists and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly. The fissure in her heart seemed to split even wider. The composure she had desperately tried to maintain splintered. He was leaving, and it appeared he couldn’t care less that she would soon auction her virginity, her sensuality, to another. She loathed that, deep down, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.
My family needs me, she silently reminded herself, but another voice whispered,perhaps you could accept his money and repay him in time.
She scoffed at her own foolishness, squared her shoulders, and shed her robe. Agatha stepped into the silken skirt that sat low on her waist, and the sheer fabric covering her breasts only teased at modesty. Her belly lay bare, her décolletage framed to allure. Bea entered and began to brush her hair, accentuating her eyes with kohl.
“Are you sure about the wig?” Bea asked, watching her closely.
“Yes.”
A dark red wig was affixed to her head, its dramatic tresses falling to her waist, lending her a strikingly mysterious allure. Agatha stared at herself in the mirror, seeing a provocative stranger with gleaming, confident eyes. She looked both powerful and untouchable.
Agatha took a deep breath and left her chamber, descending the winding staircase. The pleasure house had fallen silent, all anticipation toward the shadowed dais. She entered, feeling painfully exposed but empowered, her beauty a tool she had to wield expertly.
Before she looked up, she felt his gaze. She met Thomas’s eyes across the room—cool, indifferent, andthen they were filled with a hunger that made her pulse race. Her skin heated under the intensity of his stare. Their eyes held for several beats, and then he gave a slight nod. Agatha turned back to the crowd, knowing she now owned their curiosity.
Madam Rebecca clapped, signaling the servants to light the candles and wall sconces around the dais. Each one flared up in choreographed unison, casting a glow that highlighted the drama of the moment. A haunting flute began to play, joined by the melodic strains of a violin, both hidden behind curtains, filling the room with a captivating, seductive sound.
Agatha took a step into the light, emerging fully from the shadows.
“By God,” a gentleman whispered from his seat, half-rising as if drawn to her by a force beyond his control.
“Gentlemen,” Madam Rebecca’s voice rang out, commanding their attention. “Allow me to present Lady W. Tonight, she will dance for you theRaqs Sharqi—a most sensual dance that celebrates the waist, hips, and belly, meant to tantalize and delight.” She paused, her voice dripping with promise. “Lady W is a virgin.”
A murmur rippled through the room, intensified by the allure of her mystery.
Madam Rebecca raised her hands, smiling as though conducting an orchestra of anticipation. “But not just any virgin. She knows how to tempt, tease, and fulfill.”
Agatha nearly smirked at the exaggeration.
“You have the chance to bid for her,” Madam Rebecca continued, “and if you win, five decadent nights in her arms await you. There are, however, a few limitations: no bondage, no whipping, flogging, or spanking. She will allow forced pleasure. And,” Madam’s voice softened, a sly smile curving her lips, “her virgin arse is also available as long as mutual pleasure is assured … in its fucking.”
