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“You need not comprehend my orders, only obey them.”
A noise that sounded like she was choking escaped her throat. “The man is insufferable.”
“I heard that, Lady Charity.”
She sniffed. “I will not simply obey you; what right do you have to order me about? And truly, what are those sounds. I swear that wretch is hurting that lady.”
“It is pleasure,” he said with an aggrieved sigh.
“Pleasure?”
“Yes.” Ethan could feel the wicked little minx thinking.
“What kind of pleasure?”
“Good God,” he muttered. “Are you always this inquisitive?”
“Yes.”
Ethan felt he had walked right into that one.
“Since you are unwilling to expound,” she said at his silence, “I must ascertain for myself that she is not being hurt, and it is this mysterious pleasure you are talking about.”
“And what if he is hurting her?” he asked, truly curious.
“We would rescue her, of course, and manage the fallout of our reputations at another time.”
We. Oddly he liked that she had included him in the imaginary rescue. “I want you to trust what I say and do not look into that library.”
He made his voice cold and stern, expecting instant obedience. Ethan blinked when she said, “I promise to be most discreet.”
As if to entice her more, a loud squeak came from the lady with the viscount and then a long breathy moan.
Lady Charity stiffened then shifted forward slightly. “Whatever could they truly be doing?” she whispered, slipping the fingers of her gloves between the parting of the drapes.
Ethan gripped her hips to restrain the hellion, careful to not bruise her with his strength. When she gasped, he peeked above her head through the open curtains. In the space the outrageous woman created, Ethan saw that the viscount had the lady on the desk, her gown pushed high up to her waist, and he was on his knees with his face buried in the lady’s snatch.
Damn it all to hell.
