Free The Pretender by Celeste Bradley Page A

on the old chap for ignoring you?"
    "Oh, I think it has crossed my mind a time or two," she breathed.
    "A man like that, always off playing cards, is he?" Simon knew Winchell was a devoted patron of the arts, but Mortimer wouldn't necessarily know that.
    "No, it is his collections. So demeaning, a lady such as I married to a man who would prefer to spend his time with a painting or a statue."
    "Now that is a shame."
    Simon slid two fingers into her d6colletage. He tugged at the fabric teasingly. "Such daring fashion. I wonder how easily I could slip these out and toy with them right in front of his lordship?"
    Lavinia shuddered, her eyes closing at his suggestion. "Do it!" she whispered. "Right here, right now. Toy with me!"
    "Oh, but that wouldn't be enough for a man like me, would it? Why settle for a simple tease, when I could show you so many interesting pastimes I've learned in my travels?"
    That got her attention. Her eyes snapped open, glassy with lust. "Exotic pastimes?"
    "My dear Lavinia, I could take you on such a journey you'll never want to come back. In the West Indies, I came upon a technique kept secret by the most decadent of courtesans."
    "Show me! Now!" She grabbed his hand. "My bedchamber is—"
    Simon repossessed his hand. "Lavinia, I'm surprised. I thought you wanted to explore the exotic. No one of any discernment uses a bed any longer."
    "They don't?" She didn't seem terribly disappointed. If anything, her lascivious expression heightened.
    "Now, this particular technique I have in mind for you is much heightened by certain… accoutrements, if you will. Of course, it requires a table or a desk of some sort…"
    "The breakfast room. Hurry—"
    "And to do it justice, I would really require…" How to get her into the study?
    "Yes? Anything!"
    "Ink."
    "Ink?"
    "Surely you've heard of the erotic art of tattooing?"
    "But doesn't that hurt?" Far from appearing worried by the prospect, her eyes glittered.
    "When done permanently, yes, it does. But this method is a sort of short-lived tattoo."
    Even through her drink and lust, Lavinia was beginning to look suspicious. Simon pursed his lips and blew a soft trail of air across the exposed tops of her breasts.
    "Imagine the sensation of brush and ink as I cover your flesh with mysterious designs. Swirling and wet, the brush is first cold, then, as it warms from contact with your skin, begins to feel like a human fingertip, or perhaps even a tongue."
    She was panting now, eyes completely lust-glazed. "My husband's study. A desk. Plenty of ink."
    "And imagine the enjoyment you'll feel every time you see him sitting at that desk and you remember your wicked, wicked revenge."
    He needn't have embellished. She was completely amenable to the plan now. Grabbing his arm, she almost ran to the stairs at the back of the hall.
    "Here. Down and to the right. Seventh door. I shall meet you there by another route."
    "Godspeed, my pretty." Simon kissed her hand and nonchalantly headed down the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her skirts whirl as she took off in the other direction.
    As soon as she was out of sight, he flung himself headlong down the steps.
    No one was in sight in the ground-floor hall, which was lit by an abundance of sconces lining the walls. Simon ran, counting doorways under his breath.
    "Seven!" Quickly he pulled a brimstone match from his pocket and thrust it beneath the glass shade of the nearest lit sconce. Once the match flared to life, he ducked into the dark room with it and shut the door behind him.
    A handy arrangement of candlesticks stood on a table near the door. Simon grabbed the nearest available candle and lit it, then carefully snuffed the stick of sulfur-dipped juniper in his hand and returned it to his pocket.
    Now, where to start? Moving quickly to the desk, he swiftly but silently pulled each drawer completely out and ran his hands around the back and bottom.
    Without the slightest glance into the contents—for who would be