Free Carnal Deceptions by Scottie Barrett Page A

He yanked at them, finding himself with a handful of her funereal garb and a nightgown. On the dresser, the wig lay like a dead thing. She was buried deep beneath the covers, oblivious to his presence. Her hair fanned out over the pillow, each lock a separate shimmering copper coil. He wondered if it felt as silken as it looked.
    He sat with force on the end of the bed, pulling the bedclothes down, exposing the tops of her naked breasts. It failed to rouse her. Obviously, the amount of anguish she’d felt over the loss of her small fortune had been no match for the drink she’d imbibed. He brought the candle toward her face. Her eyelids twitched, but they did not lift. Her face was mottled and tear-stained. With a small mewl, she shifted in bed, exposing two perfect rose-colored nipples. Desire slammed through him, making his heart hammer in his chest. He wanted her now. This instant. He groaned as her nipples puckered in the cool evening air. With effort, he fought the need to clamp his mouth over those erect nipples and suck hard. His fingers itched to stroke her soft cunt and have her purr in his ear. He hungered

    to taste all of her, to have her spread her legs wide for him, to thrust his stiffened cock deep inside her.
    “Wake up,” he thundered, desperate at the need she inspired in him.
    She jolted upward and almost instantly cradled her head like a hollowed eggshell. “Have you no mercy?” She moaned. “On second thought, the only merciful thing you could do for me right now is kill me, or at least remove my throbbing head.”
    “Do not tempt me, woman. It would be all too easy to snap your pretty little neck in two right now.”
    She seemed suddenly aware of her nakedness and tugged hard at the bedclothes, but he refused to budge.
    She hugged a pillow to her breasts and scowled at him. Her narrowed eyes glittered like pale green gems in the candlelight. “Would you please put that out?”
    “I should set the room ablaze with candles just to punish you for being such a deceitful wench.”
    “I am not deceitful.”
    “Right. Then I suppose the peculiar costume you’ve been wearing was merely the latest fashion?”
    She swayed, nearly smacking her head against the headboard. “I was trying to fade away. I did not want people to take notice of me.” Her voice was soft and sad. “Please leave me be.”
    “You’ll be explaining this all to my aunt in the morning. I expect to see you downstairs at daybreak.”
    “You needn’t worry, my lord. If you leave right now, I promise I shall be packed and out before the sun shows. I will not need to disturb your aunt at all.”
    “And no doubt you’ll be flat on your back in Beadle’s bed in a twinkling.”
    She hurled a pillow at him, which he managed to deflect. He leaned over her, his knuckles imbedding in the soft mattress on either side of her legs. He could smell the wine on her breath. He dipped his head and licked her lips. She gave a small cry of protest, which he ignored and swept his tongue over her mouth once again, revealing perfect, blush-colored lips. The powder tasted chalky on his tongue. She’d been masking her entire face in cosmetics. “You will be downstairs explaining your lies to my aunt tomorrow morning. Is that clear?”

    A visible shudder ran through her body. Her powderless lashes, heart-stoppingly luxuriant and dark now, fluttered. “Fine. You are right, of course.” Her lips pouted delectably. “I do owe her an explanation for my dishonesty.”
    “Glad you see it my way.” “But it wasn’t all a ruse.”
    “Pray tell, Hortensia, which part was truth?” “The part where I said I hated you.”
    “Now that I believe.” He left the room, slamming the door so hard behind him, it nearly fell off its hinges.

Chapter Seven

    Beadle had managed to rescue only two dresses from the collectors. The elegant wardrobe her father had had made for her first and only London season had been confiscated.
    Because her spirits were low,