Page 10 of Surrender to Sin

“No doubt,” said Grace. Even in the wilds of Gloucester, they’d heard about the Prince’s loose tongue. “We’d best be on our way. I know I’ve said it before, but I really do appreciate your discretion and willingness to, er, explore the city in my carriage for the next two weeks.”

All humor left Nell’s face. “I’m pleased to help. You know how I feel about your father and the feral bat he married. One elderly husband is quite enough for any woman, but attempting to saddle you with a second? Outrageous. I’m not sure I believe his claim that your uncle endorses this new arrangement, either. Perhaps you should pay an impromptu afternoon call on the duchess.”

“Actually, as soon as we arrived in town I sent a note suggesting afternoon tea. I didn’t specify the reason in case other eyes read it, and unfortunately, I haven’t heard back yet. I hope Aunt Anne isn’t cross with me. I always enjoyed her company, but Carrington rarely allowed me to come to town and it has been over a year since I saw her in person.”

“You give the duchess too little credit. She is a very astute woman who probably understands more than you think. In the meantime, there is no point waiting here for the post.”

A half hour later they descended on Portman Square. Waving Nell away, Grace hurried to Fallen’s discreet back entrance and rapped the shiny brass knocker. Anticipation robbed her of the ability to stand still, and she found herself almost dancing a minuet on the steps waiting for admittance.

“Ah, Lady Carrington,” said a soft, accented voice, and she nearly yelped in surprise at the mountain of a man now blocking the doorway. How could Fallen’s butler, who was broader than Sin and surely must be six and a half feet tall, move so soundlessly?

“Oh, Diaz. Good heavens, you startled me,” she said with an embarrassed laugh as she remembered Sin’s kitten to starving tiger quip. The attractive Spaniard was polite and deferential, but his bald head, pierced ears, scarred cheek, and unblinking black stare did indeed speak of a deadliness only barely leashed.

“My apologies, señora. His lordship is waiting for you in his private parlor, if you’ll follow me.”

For the third day in a row, they moved along beautifully decorated hallways too fast to admire the gold-framed landscapes on the wall, or the thick Aubusson rugs devouring the heels of her slippers. Abruptly the butler stopped and knocked on the door to Sin’s room, then opened it and gestured for her to go in.

Nodding her thanks, Grace took a deep breath and entered the parlor. Sin wasn’t playing the pianoforte this time, but standing at a window that overlooked an enclosed garden. His fawn trousers and white linen shirt fitted his huge body to perfection, revealing to anyone who cared to comment that he had no need whatsoever for padding or corsets.

“Good morning,” she said unsteadily, nerves and anticipation almost robbing her of voice.

He turned immediately, his brow furrowed. “You’ve changed your mind.”

“No! No. But I wondered if…that is, if the mild scandal doesn’t work, then I’ll be married to Baxter until he dies. I have just under a fortnight now to call my own, and there are things I should like to know. Things I won’t experience if I am married to that man. Do you think when we practice…it could be far more than mild?”

Sin was silent for the longest time. Then he tilted his head. “I’m disappointed, Grace.”

Her heart plummeted at his cool, remote tone, the absence of any laughter on his face. “Wh-why? What is the matter?”

“It is five minutes past eleven. I told you, did I not, what would happen if you were late to our appointments?”

His words from their first meeting echoed in her ears.

Tardiness results in penalties.

Grace swallowed hard at her own foolishness. She’d thought he desired her, but obviously not. “You did. Are…are you going to send me home?”

Ignoring the question, Sin strolled forward, hands behind his back, coming to a halt two feet in front of her. “Have you been thinking of me, Grace? Is that why you want so much more than kisses?”

“Yes.”

“In what way?”

She studied his handsome face, searching for a hint of kindness, any faint chance he might forgive her stupid lapse. But there was nothing, his entire expression could have been hewn from stone.

Dismay made her want to weep, and she bowed her head.

Only to see the bulge of his fully aroused manhood straining against his trousers.

Oh God. Sin was teasing her again! Upping the stakes in a deliciously bold game that promised rewards better than anything she’d dreamed of. Longing filled her, and before she could question the rightness or folly of her actions, she sank to her knees. “I’ve thought about how you pressed between my legs—”

“Me? You mean my cock? Say it.”

“Yes,” she whispered, clenching her thighs against a wave of shameless lust. “Your cock was so big and hard under the fabric. I wondered what it might feel like naked in my hands. To kiss and stroke it until you came for me and I could taste your seed in my mouth.”

Sin made a low growling sound, and one hand delved into her chignon. He roughly pulled the ribbon and pins free, then wound her loose blond curls around his fingers. “Grace…”

“Sin?” she said, gasping in stunned pleasure as he tugged on her hair, just hard enough to invoke a light prickle across her scalp. Sweet heaven. He hadn’t even kissed her, and she was quivering.