The girl laughed lightly. “I should think so, miss.”
Dear Lord, what had she done? She touched her lips, surprised to find they weren’t swollen from all the attention he’d given them. However, when she ran her tongue over them, she could still taste him. Dark and dangerous. And oh, so very alluring. “Where is he?”
“Probably gone home. We’re doing the tidying up now. Didn’t really expect to find anyone in here.”
“Who was he?”
“Don’t know, miss. Don’t know who they sent to you. Maybe Michael? He’s ever so good at delivering what the ladies want. Or so I’ve heard.”
“What shade is his hair?”
“Blond.”
“No, it wasn’t him. This man’s hair was a dark brown, sable.” She had a gossamer memory of running her fingers through the silky-soft strands. Had she been that bold?
“Julian, mayhap? Or another? Any of ’em really. They all do the kissing.”
Pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead, she stroked and rubbed, trying to ease the ache that was throbbing unmercifully if left alone. “What else do they do?”
“Anything a lady wants.”
She peered through her splayed fingers. “But only if she asks.”
“Oh, yes, miss. You’re done up all nice and tight. I suspect he only kissed you.”
“Yes, yes of course.” Slightly disappointed, she cast aside the blanket, briefly wondering where it had come from. She had no memory of it. Or the man leaving. Or the kiss stopping. It had seemed to go on into eternity, into her dreams.
She’d have to commend Mr. Trewlove on the men he hired. The one he’d sent to her had made her feel wanted, beloved. Unfortunately, he’d left her yearning for more. Even if it had all been an act, he’d been damned good at performing.
Suddenly the kiss lost its shine because it hadn’t been born of desire but bought by what she’d paid to gain entry. A fee. Like purchasing a thoroughbred horse. On one hand, her coins had certainly not gone to waste. He’d earned every farthing. On the other hand, she’d been a task completed so those coins would land on his palm. He’d merely gone through the motions, but oh, what lovely motions they’d been.
Chapter 2
Sitting in the library of the Twin Dragons with his three closest friends, Rook very much wished he was at another club: the Elysium. It had been three nights since he’d kissed the Lady of Sighs, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d even returned last night, gone up the stairs, stood in that hidden alcove, and peered through a part in the draperies, hoping to catch sight of her. But after only a few seconds, he’d turned away, feeling very much like some sort of depraved soul—tawdry and unworthy of her—spying as he was.
Aiden had found him there, battling with his conscience. Rook had greeted his brother with “Has she returned?”
“Who?”
Rook couldn’t believe that was a serious question. How could Aiden have forgotten? “The woman you insisted I kiss.”
“Did I insist?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Thought I merely asked.”
Rook decided it was a good thing they’d not grown up in the same household as he suspected they might have often come to blows. “Has. She. Returned?”
Aiden grinned. The bugger had known preciselywhom Rook was asking about and thought it amusing to pretend otherwise. Or perhaps he simply found it humorous to torment his brother. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Then I can assume she’s not here this evening?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
Had his kiss been a disappointment? If she’d enjoyed it, wouldn’t she have come back for another? Only she didn’t know his name. If she tried to describe him, no one would be able to identify him because he didn’t work there. Those who had seen him before certainly wouldn’t expect that he would engage in such inappropriate behavior. Another bloke would be sent to her, would kiss her—and that scenario had an unfamiliar tightness squeezing his chest because he didn’t want someone else fulfilling her fantasies. He wanted to fuel her desires.
Those wayward thoughts continued to plague him, even now when his friends were chattering about an investment opportunity they’d been pursuing of late. He couldn’t seem to latch onto their words because he was wondering how he might have kissed her differently. Had he gone too fast, too slow? Had he been too aggressive? Not aggressive enough? Had she tasted the scotch he’d tossed back before going to her, and as a result, labeled him a drunkard? Or perhaps she’d not liked the flavor. She, on the other hand, had tasted delicious. Addictingly so. Sweet, yet earthy. He wanted to taste her again, damn it.
He wondered if he could convince Aiden to share whatever information he knew as a result of her arrival at his club. Was she visiting or did she live here permanently? Would he know precisely where she resided? And what then? Send her flowers? Might sheconsider him a danger if he were to go about seeking her out when she was in truth virtually a stranger?
“Are you listening?”
