Free Virgin Star by Jennifer Horsman

shook her head, bracing.
    "I woke to find the brat straddled over me with my dagger at my throat.”
    "Mercy!" Tilly took this in. "Wh't in 'eaven's name did ye do that for?"
    "She's frightened. It's a long story that I hope I never have to hear. It appears that she's lost her memory. She can't even tell me her name. Do with her"—he waved his hand in dismissal, realizing he had no idea what to do with her—"whatever you think is best, Tilly. And oh," He stopped in front of the woman as he moved toward the door.
    From the other side of the bed, she saw she had lost his attention and worse, his interest, and somehow it was so maddening. She might not be able to remember all the men she had met in her life, but she'd wager a roomful of tea he was worst of them!
    "Send someone out for a neurologist at the academy to check her over. Not that irascible quack who tried to help me with my headaches." That doctor had told him his headaches were the result of "nerve irritation and acidic air," and he had prescribed a half-year in a Swiss sanitarium to relax his "humors." The mendacious man pretended to be outraged when he had demanded to know how much of a kickback he got from this Swiss sanitarium. "Get the best. I believe there is more than one thing wrong with that pretty head."
    He chuckled when he saw her angry glare, chuckled because, happily, he could shut the door on it, her, the whole unpleasant incident. He had a killing to arrange. Right after Molly ...
     
    *****
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Molly gasped as Seanessy's greedy hands deftly untied the laces of her new cherry-red corset, the color perfectly matching the lip paint she wore. Faint red smudges of it appeared around his handsome mouth. He let his lips tease the sensitive area just under her ear. She hoped he got a good whiff of the French perfume there—cost a whole friggin' pound, it did, and just to make sure, she asked, "Do you like my new perfume, Seanessy?"
    Seanessy managed a husky aye, though his mind strayed far from any thought of perfume. Especially as he freed her heavy breasts and cupped their impressive weight in his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, savoring the sweet mercy of her presence.
    Thank heaven for Molly. Especially after what he had just been put through. No. Do not think of that.
    Molly giggled girlishly, in a way only Seanessy inspired. She sometimes wondered if she might actually love him—a ridiculous thought for the most successful madam in London—but there it was nonetheless. As she'd told her girls: after three marriages and hundreds of men, Seanessy was the only man she'd bed for no better reason than the fun of it.
    He lifted his head from her neck, and as he aligned her body tightly against his length, the image of bright amber eyes against dark gold hair rushed through his mind. His pulse leaped as he remembered the coral-pink tease of her breasts and the feel of her slim form beneath him-—
    He was suddenly kissing Molly as if he were a man dying of thirst. It made Molly dizzy. When his lips finally left hers, she released a trembling sigh, almost embarrassed by how shaky she felt—like a schoolgirl again-—and with a nervous laugh, she said, "Well, aren't we all fired up ..."
    He whispered sweet things about what was inspiring the fire, all of them lies. He only knew he needed a release—that was all he knew or cared about. He effortlessly lifted her impressive weight against the door. Neither the location nor the position had been randomly chosen. Very few people knocked in this house, and the lock on this door had long ago disappeared.
    A rap sounded, affirming Sean's wisdom. Holding Molly's weight against him with one arm, he used his free hand to stifle her amusement. "Go away, Tilly—"
    "I would, master, I truly would if I just knew what to do. Ye see, the young lady refuses to put on the proper dress—:”
    "Tilly." He pronounced her name loudly and with a warning that sounded through the door. "What leap