Free Deeply In You by Sharon Page

cocked off to the side, narrow, fierce eyes. But as he looked up from his papers and saw her, Mr. Black leapt up and gave a beaming smile. “My dear, Greybrooke has told me about your troubles—I will be honored to help you. Give me the name of your brother, and I will have the word passed around London. Your brother will be discreetly turned away from all gaming establishments. It will be done so he will have no idea that you had anything to do with it, my dear.”
    She could not quite believe it. “My brother is William Rains.” Then she requested awkwardly, “Please do not tell His Grace who my brother is.”
    “Rains—the newspaper man?”
    She nodded. “But I’ve been a governess, and I would never find work if the ton feared I had a connection to a newspaper.”
    “Interesting.” Mr. Black scrubbed his jaw, which was shadowed in much black stubble. “Perhaps, in return, you could help me. Favorable accounts of my establishments in the papers. And discretion guaranteed for my patrons?”
    She nodded. “Oh yes, I promise. I must thank you from the bottom of my heart, sir. You have spared an entire family—”
    “Thank Greybrooke, miss, not me. He made a plea for your case—and an offer I could not refuse.”
    “What kind of offer?”
    “To encourage his wealthy peers to frequent my club, especially the ones who tend to lose.”
    She left his office, closing the door behind her, to find Greybrooke pacing by the fire. He met her with concern. “Did he agree?”
    “Immediately. You made him an irresistible offer. Thank you, Your Grace.” He had indeed rescued her.
    “It was no trouble,” Greybrooke said dismissively. “Now—did you wish to begin our pleasures?”
    “Oh!” She swallowed hard. Would he really give her time? Would he expect her to go to his bed in return for his help—maybe even tonight?
    She should let him take her to his home. But she was nervous. She needed to stall for time while she gathered her wits. “I would like to see more of the gaming club.”
    His brow quirked. “I could give you a climax first, my dear. Then we could gamble.”
    “Oh, Your Grace, I really wish to see it now. You must remember I’m a governess and I always go to bed early. I’ll fall asleep at the gaming table if I wait too long.”
    He moved closer to her, and she could focus on nothing but him. He towered over her, his black hair in fashionable disarray—it looked how it would if her hands had run through it. She was so wickedly tempted to touch him. . . .
    “I’ve been aroused for you all day,” he said softly.
    Those words made her melt, even as they made her panic. She didn’t dare touch him. It would be like unleashing a predatory lion, she feared. “Please, Your Grace. This is—it is too fast for me. I am sorry but I’m just not ready.”
    “Not ready for an orgasm?” His eyes twinkled.
    Hers opened wide. “Oh, heavens, no.”
    He laughed gently. “All right. Follow me.”
     
    Apparently gentlemen liked to play cards in gloom—the light of two candelabras barely cut through the shadows. Helena blinked until she could finally see.
    She gasped in shock.
    Half-naked, buxom women were draped all over the men. One female had her bodice pulled down to reveal her whole plump breast. The nipple sitting on top was as red as a robin’s breast. Her gentleman was idly—and openly—pinching her nipple.
    “Why do they have such vividly colored nipples?”
    The duke’s brows shot up. “They use scarlet cream to heighten the color.”
    Oh dear. She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. “Oh—er, I thought maybe women with bright red nipples tended to become strumpets.”
    Greybrooke smothered a laugh. “Come along, cousin. The cards are waiting for us.”
    Broad-shouldered and tall, the duke moved easily between the tightly spaced tables. He had such presence that men promptly made room for him, despite being in the middle of games with large piles of money on the tables.
    Greybrooke