Free Virginia Henley by Enticed Page B

bought your little trinket, isn’t it?” he demanded.
    “Well, I suppose you could say that,” she answered carefully.
    He looked at her sharply, the rake of his jaw thrust out angrily. She felt frightened of him when he was angry.
    “What did you do in return for the bracelet?” He almost sneered.
    She cast down her eyes and whispered, “I stole it when we visited the Silver Vaults.”
    The crack of his laughter startled her. Relieved that his dark mood had passed, she laughed with him. His lips brushed her forehead and he said, “You’re incorrigible!”
    She was disturbed by his closeness. It was pleasant but instinctively she knew his behavior was a little too familiar. She looked down at her lap and fingered the plain material of her dress. Suddenly she burst out, “I hate brown!”
    “So do I,” he agreed.
    “Then I’ll never wear it again,” she vowed.
    Madame Martine welcomed Patrick effusively. She remembered him very well, as only a few days ago he had brought his sister in and spent a good deal, promising he would soon return with his younger sister. She whisked Kitty away to a tiny fitting room, leaving Patrick to sip sherry as he relaxed on a blue satin, Louis XIV love seat. She dressed Kitty in a child’s pink organdy dress with frilled white pantaloons showing beneath and swept her before Patrick.
“Ta soeur
!”
    Patrick’s eyes met Kitty’s and they both went off into peals of laughter. “You look delicious, my sweet, like icing on a cake.
Madame
, I assure you this is not my sister.” He smiled charmingly. “May I suggest something a little more sophisticated? She will need everything—underwear, dresses, negligees.” Madame Martine realized her
faux pas
instantly. She had taken them for brother and sister because they had the same vivid, dark beauty.
    Kitty spoke up, “I look much younger than I really am,
madame
, and I should like some grown-up gowns with plunging necklines. I’m almost sixteen.” Patrick had the decency to flush as Madame Martine’s eyebrows rose. In her business one couldn’t afford scruples, but she felt morally justified in her decision to charge him double for everything. She started with day dresses in exquisitely sprigged muslin, then gowns for evening wear that had been made up for other customers. “
Mademoiselle
is so petite I will have to get the girl to pin it tighter.”
    As soon as she left, Kitty, who was standing on a raised platform in front of Patrick, lifted her skirts to show off her legs. “Look, Patrick—silk stockings, just like I’ve always longed for!”
    His loins went taut and he began to stiffen. She had only intended to show him her ankles, but elevated as she was he saw the shapely calves and caught a glimpse of her bare thigh, that very exciting area above the garters where the stockings left off and the most intimate part of the female began. He was acutely aware of the savage pulsing of blood into his shaft.
    “They come in all kinds of shades. May I have some pink ones and some flesh-colored ones?”
    “And black,” he said huskily, as he shifted position to ease the tightness of the cloth of his trousers. Kitty only had eyes for the pretty shoes with bows across the toes and tiny high heels. They made her feel different as she strutted about in them. Most of the dresses would have to be delivered when they were finished, but many of the articles of lace underwear, shoes, stockings, etc., were boxed up and ready to be taken with them. Madame Martine came out of the dressing room to have a private word with Patrick. She carriedthree or four transparent nightgowns in delicate shades over her arm, which she indicated. “She absolutely refuses to try any of these on,
monsieur
.”
    “Why?” asked Patrick, puzzled.
    “She simply refuses to believe a lady would wear such a thing to bed. She says nightgowns have to be made of flannel to keep you warm.”
    Patrick laughed. “Wrap them up; we’ll take them.”
    When they