Free Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) by Em Brown

use of his given
name. He had little desire to befriend the man. There had been
whispers of the man shortly after the death of his wife, but
Charles could not remember what the confabulation entailed, only
that it was not complimentary of Sir Arthur.
    “Surely you are aware the emperor is not
pleased with the opium, Sir Arthur,” Charles said.
    Sir Arthur shrugged. “Do you not agree we
should seek greater trade with China?”
    “Of course. But this stratagem concerning
opium can only lead to a grim end, even war.”
    “Do you fear a war with China, Charles?”
    “Tell me first, would such a war benefit
country or Company?”
    Sir Canning began coughing, and Charles felt
a little sheepish. His employer had invited Sir Arthur with the
intention of soliciting the man’s support for him, and he had
repaid Sir Canning’s kindness by risking the minister’s ire.
    Sir Arthur reclined into his chair, his
outward demeanor one of placidity, but his eyes had steeled.
    “Your father dreamed of opening China to
trade,” he said, as if lecturing Charles. “I think you share the
same, and it would provide the two of us yet another interest in
common.”
    This time Charles said nothing. He reminded
himself that he had no wish to have Sir Arthur oppose his election.
Should he win, Sir Arthur would then be a colleague to him. It was
unfortunate their paths had crossed at the Red Chrysanthemum, and
Charles had a sinking feeling he would only see more of Sir Arthur
in the days to come.
     

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    “W ell, what do we intend
tonight, Miss Terrell?”
    She and Sir Arthur occupied the same room as
yesterday. He stood before the settee, both hands resting atop the
walking stick he favored so much that it might as well have been a
fifth appendage for him.
    “Will you sit, sir?” she asked, indicating
the armchair she had used yesterday.
    With slow deliberation, he flared the tails
of his coat and took a seat. He was dressed even more impressively
this night. She noted the impeccable tie of his cravat, the lack of
a single wrinkle in his trousers, and the fine silk of his
waistcoat. In contrast, she wore the same garments but for a fresh
chemise. Accustomed to being barefoot from her time in the West
Indies when no attempts, not even dampening oneself with water,
seemed to relieve the swelter of the summer heat, she opted not to
wear stockings and shoes when she could.
    Facing him, she settled atop his thighs. He
reached for her. His hold felt forceful but awkward, as if he did
not know how to hold a woman. Unlike the embrace of Master Gallant.
She pushed him away.
    “Patience, Sir Arthur,” she said. “I have a
performance first for you, after which, you shall be rewarded for
your forbearance.”
    “Very well, but make it quick,” he said, his
eyes aflame with desire. “I have an engagement to dine with a
friend tonight.”
    She leaned upon his chest and toyed with his
neckcloth. “You need do nothing. I promise you will enjoy the
show.”
    He raised his brows. “You have had
experience on the stage?”
    She began to loosen and unwind the linen. “A
different sort of stage.”
    “Were you a dancer?”
    “A dancer unlike any you’ve seen.”
    Grasping his neckcloth on either side, she
yanked his head down toward her bosom. He buried his face in the
lush orbs, kissing their tops with reverence and hunger. She slid
the neckcloth from around his neck and wrapped it about one of his
wrists. He licked and sucked at her flesh, reminding her of a dog
lapping at a bone. She slid from his lap, darted behind the
armchair, and pulled his arms around the back. He exclaimed in
surprise, but she had wrapped the linen about his other wrist. She
caressed the length of his arm.
    “Fear not,” she assured him. “I merely wish
to ensure that my performance will not be interrupted.”
    “If this be some trickery or mischief—”
    She tied a knot about his wrists, noting the
jeweled rings upon his fingers, a beautiful