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Savage satisfaction rested on Felton's chest as those words ran through his mind while he travelled home. Thank God that in those moments he had gone to get her water, he had quickly scouted out a place he could have taken her to, and his efforts had paid off handsomely.
Esther was following his lead as he had hoped she would; now that she knew and had admitted to wanting more, he was going to give her all she wanted and more than she had imagined. She had not shied away from his advances, and though she had professed to stumbling through the kiss, he had felt the kisses of a coy woman.
Who did she think she was fooling? She was a liar, and a deceiver like her jackanapes of a brother. Paired with her mother's nasty remarks about Catherine, Felton was even more determined to pay the family tit for tat.
After arriving at home, he called for bathing water, in his bedchamber de-robed, and donned a banyan before he admitted the footmen. When the copper tub was filled, a fire crackled in the hearth behind him; he did away with the robe and slipped into the water.
Closing his eyes, he rested his hand against the back lip of the tub, draped an arm along the edge while bringing a leg up. He sighed out and allowed the warm water to permeate his tight muscles. Thinking of Esther and her soft pillowy lips, arousal stirred in his gut, and his hand ventured south.
His length was already filling, and when he took himself in hand, he began to dream. What would it have been like if he had met Esther on a regular plane? What would it be if revenge were not the driving force for him to seduce her? What if he honestly did want her for the woman she was?
He concentrated on Esther’s mouth, the plump twin lips that he wanted to bite into like a ripe cherry; how they would feel when they dropped soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck, how it would feel when her shy tongue traced the ridges of his chest and flickered across his nipples.
How erotic it would feel when she took him in her hand, the diamond of his engagement ring glistening from her fourth finger, while she lowered her mouth to take him in. How the silk of her hair would flow through his fingers when her small hands played with his stones.
Felton’s breath came faster at the thought and his blood heated while he pleasured himself. God, Esther would learn all the ways she could bring him to a boiling point, and so would he. His fantasy shifted to him taking her. Hot, deep thrusts into her body that made lust explode inside him. As he neared his climax, she would cry out his name, and the sound of it, on her tongue, loaded with uttermost bliss, had him spilling over his fist with violent surges.
Panting, Felton laid back in the water; his eyes closed tight while he slowly regained awareness of the world around him.
My name on her lips; which would that name be Arthur…or Felton?
Arthur, he decided, it had to be Arthur. Arthur Morgan, Captain of the Navy, the man who would seduce Esther Harewood and teach her family not to play with fire.
With the moment of weakness brushed off, he finished his bath and left to the bedroom while castigating himself—those bouts of indecisiveness could not happen any more. He was not in love with Esther; hell, he could never have genuine feelings for her.
All he had to do was get her in his bed and divest the genteel virgin of her innocence. Love had no part in revenge.
But what if she loves you?
The thought stopped him cold. Could it be that Esther was merrily skipping down a road that would lead her to disaster? Why not—her brother had done it to Catherine. Even more, the reason why the damn Duke of Ayles should not have played with Catherine’s heart; turnabout was fair play.
But... is it?
