Page 44 of The Viscount's Seduction
And then there was the matter of finding Jamie.
“Sirena.”
She looked into his dark, intense eyes. He was a determined sort, and surprisingly warm behind closed doors. Not prone to tantrums, else he would’ve had one with her on the way back from the docks. He’d not raised a hand to her, as many men might have done.
If he didn’t truly have an interest in her fair person, he was doing a grand job of acting. An answering need spiraled through her. Lust it was, but at least they would have that.
And it was true. This time she wouldn’t be able to escape the ruin, and by all that was holy, she didn’t want to find herself alone on the London streets.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He tugged her close and set his lips to hers. She didn’t bother to fight, surrender being what she wanted, what she’d yearned for the first moment he’d taken her hand in the dance the other night. Her lips parted for him, her tongue met his, her head bent back, and at the place where their hips joined, she felt the hardness of him. She’d lurked in the shadows of the stables often enough while the men and boys talked to know what that would be, and the thrill of it shot through her, sending hot moisture pooling between her legs.
He cupped her head firmly, and with the other explored every inch of her person, settling on her breasts and lighting more wildness within her. She moved her hands up his hard chest, around to his neck, threading her fingers through his thick hair.
He would want her tonight. That was clear.
He plunged a hand into her bodice and flipped the fabric down, freeing her breast, and then stopped to watch his finger make swirls around the bud of her nipple.
Pleasure shot through her. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my,” and, when he bent his head and let his tongue take over, “Oh, Bakeley.”
She squeezed his shoulder, his arm, the back of his head. More pleasure rippled inside her, wrapping around her heart.
A knock at the door made him go still.
A male throat cleared, the sound muffled by the heavy wooden door. “It’s Bink.”
Bakeley tucked her breast in and arranged her dress, his face such a grim mask she had to laugh.
“Caught in the act. Does he know your intentions?”
He grinned. “Yes. He wouldn’t have left you alone with me otherwise.”
Her heart lifted that someone who knew nothing of her should care. “Truly? Who else knows?”
“Lady Jane. I asked for her blessing.” He searched her eyes. “Do you mind that I spoke to her?”
Lady Jane stood as the closest thing to family for her. Her eyes started to water. “Did she give it?”
“Yes, but not right away.”
“I’m coming in.” Mr. Gibson rattled the door latch.
Bakeley bade him enter and then turned back to her. “I had to go through a litany of objections with Lady Jane—my father, your nationality, your lack of wealth, your social standing. It was a good rehearsal for my dealings with you.”
Once again, a throat cleared loudly next to them. When she looked, Mr. Gibson had an amused gleam in his eyes. A bonnie girl in a simple gown stood behind him, holding a large bundle. She bobbed a curtsey, and cast her eyes down, but not before Sirena saw a flash of interest.
He’d brought her a saucy maid.
“Lady Sirena, this is Jenny,” Mr. Gibson said. “She’ll be yours as long as you need her.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. Mrs. Gibson—”
“It’s no trouble. We have plenty of help. Jenny is blessed with the ability to hold her tongue, and she likes a little adventure now and again.”
The girl peeked from under her eyelashes and bit back a smile. She couldn’t be more than eighteen. “My mistress has sent along some clofing, miss.”
The cockney accent was thicker than gruel and made Sirena smile. “How very thoughtful. It’s grateful, I am.”
