Page 59 of The Boxing Baroness

This time, she didn’t catch the mortifying whine that slipped out of her as he nudged her mons. He pressed harder and she ground against him like a back-alley tart, mindlessly chasing her pleasure.

He released her skin with a soft sucking sound. “Marianne,” he whispered, the word dark with need. He claimed her mouth and gripped her hips as he lifted his knee.

Marianne bucked against him, the soft, swollen folds of her sex rubbing against the unforgiving muscle of his thigh.

He pulled away just far enough that he could see her face, his green eyes hooded and heavy and dark as they drank in her pleasure, his knee working her as his hands slid up her waist to her ribs. When his thumbs flicked the hard tips of her nipples, she cried out, her eyelids fluttering as she took in the harsh, hungry lines of his face.

Once again, he claimed her mouth, rhythmically rocking his knee, his palms cradling her breasts, and his mouth catching the animal grunts and whimpers that she couldn’t restrain.

A bolt of exquisite pleasure struck her core and her body clenched, spine arching, and—

Something moved at the other end of the room; the tangle of blankets and costumes piled on the old sofa rose up and a head emerged.

Marianne shrieked.

* * *

Sin spun around, keeping Marianne’s body between his and the wall.

His eyes widened; there was a head sticking out of the pile of garments that perennially covered the old settee.

It was Josephine Brown. She blinked owlishly up at them and then yawned. “Oh,” was all she said.

Marianne scrambled out from behind Sin, her face a fiery red. “How is it that you didn’t hear Barnabas come in, yell at everyone to get out, and then harangue me?” she demanded.

Brown—or Blade as everyone called her—merely pushed the tangled pile of costumes and clothing off her and swung her feet to the floor.

Sin had not seen her this past week, since she’d apparently taken time away from the circus to visit an ailing relative.

Given what Elliot had said about her—that she had no family—the sudden appearance of a cousin was suspicious. Elliot had arranged for somebody to follow her to wherever she’d gone, but the man he’d sent had lost her trail. Sin couldn’t recall ever seeing his friend so furious.

Although Sin had rehearsed with her four or five times, he hadn’t realized just how odd looking she was. The lighting had been dimmer during rehearsals and any other time he’d caught a glimpse of her, she’d been performing and wore a mask that covered most of her face.

The part that hadn’t been covered by the mask—her jaw, chin, and mouth—had been disguised by the heavy face paint all Farnham’s entertainers wore.

Looking at her now, in the well-lighted dressing room, he could see she was virtually colorless. Sin had ash blond hair, but hers was the corn silk white of a towhead. It was a hair color that was fairly common among children but rarely persisted into adulthood.

Her eyes were a pale, true gray, devoid of any hints of blue or green, resembling an agate.

When she rose to her feet, he could see she was wearing one of the functional gray woolen dresses the circus women seemed to prefer while at work. She was shorter than Marianne by several inches, her figure slight and girlish, although Sin would have placed her in her mid to late twenties.

“When did you get back?” Marianne asked, still sounding strained, but no longer looking furious.

“Just a few hours ago.” Her voice was low and husky for such a slender woman. There was a barely discernible accent, and he supposed it was what remained of her childhood in Yorkshire.

“How about your cousin?” Marianne asked. “Is she—”

“Better.”

Blade’s eerie gaze drifted from Marianne to Sin.

Drift: that was a perfect word to describe her—no sudden movements, only a gradual drifting.

She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at him. “Hello . . . Sin.”

Something about the way she was looking at him—strangely . . . knowingly—made his face heat slightly. He inclined his head. “Good evening, Miss Brown.”

“You can call me Blade.” Her lips twitched but didn’t quite make it into a smile. “Everyone else does.”