Free The Awakening, Zuleika and the Barbarian by Bertrice Small

her here in the salon. It is our tribute to Eros himself, ma petite . I think you and the duke had best chart your path soon for I suspect you, being our new treasure, will be chosen this year to offer such sacrifices to the god and goddess of love."
    Marguerite swallowed hard. "All the gentlemen?"
    "Those who are here tonight," her aunt replied calmly.
    "I don't think I could—" Marguerite began.
    "Of course you can." Renée waved her protest aside. "By the time the evening is over, you will have been well fucked in every way imaginable, ma petite . So, you had best begin learning your lessons from César very soon, chérie."
    Able to stand now, the duke arose, and kissed first Marguerite's hand then Renée's. "Until tomorrow, mademoiselle," he told the younger woman, his glance burning. Then he walked away to engage the redheaded Josie in brief conversation, and shortly thereafter led her upstairs.
    "She will pay, my poor Josie, for your refusal," Renée laughed softly. "How nice you were able to rouse him so well. I knew he would be the right tutor for you, ma petite . Now go upstairs to your chaste bed, chérie . I will have to decide tomorrow which bedchamber is to be yours. César will not wait longer than that, I can see."
    "Charles never kissed me like the duke did," Marguerite said.
    "Husbands never kiss their wives like they kiss their other women," Renée replied. "I will never understand why a man thinks the woman he has chosen to wed, and bear his children, couldn't possibly be interested in lustful pursuits with him. But I should have little business if that were not so, ma petite. Women like to fuck every bit as much as men do, but wives, it seems, are taught not to admit to such a thing. A man wants to see a bit of enthusiasm when he sports himself, yet let a poor wife show any emotion, and her master begins to wonder if she is respectable, or what she has been up to with another man while he was at his club. Faagh! Men can be such fools."
    "Charles was always faithful to me," Marguerite said softly.
    "I am glad," Renée answered her niece, knowing better but keeping silent. There was no need to spoil Marguerite's pure memories, for Lord Abbott had indeed loved his young wife. "I hope you will not feel guilty now that you have chosen to follow in my footsteps, ma petite . You were a good wife to your husband, but he is dead now. There is no law that says a widow must shut herself away for the remainder of her life. Particularly a young and beautiful widow."
    "I liked the duke's kisses," Marguerite admitted, "and I will not feel sinful because of what I am doing."
    "Good!" her aunt approved, and she stood up. "Go upstairs now, chérie . You have done very well. The gentlemen are all agog with your presence. They eagerly await their chance with you, but you do need to learn a few little tricks first." Renée kissed her niece on both cheeks as she drew the younger woman up from the settee. "Bonsoir, ma petite."
    "Bonsoir, tante," Marguerite responded, and she hurried from the salon and up the stairs. As she reached the next landing, Josie popped from her chamber and called to her.
    "Marguerite, come a moment." Then she disappeared back into her room.
    The inside of Josie's bedroom was the color of a seashell, all peachy pink with white and gold furnishings. And on the far wall of the room was an enormous bed, its headboard painted with all manner of nymphs and satyrs cavorting about, and its draperies of velvet, held with heavy gold cord. In the center of the bed the duke lay sprawled, quite naked. Josie was attired in little more than a diaphanous gauze robe. The air in the room was fragrant with lilies. A fire blazed in the fireplace, the flickering candles giving the chamber a soft golden glow. Marguerite stood frozen momentarily, like a deer caught by hunters. Her startled gaze was held by the duke's dark eyes.
    "I want you to join us," he said quietly.
    " I . . . cannot," she half whispered.
    "Of course you