Free Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) by Tracy Cooper-Posey, Julia Templeton Page B

his hand fall away. “My pleasure.”
    She stared straight ahead. But there was a fine gold ringlet brushing the nape of her neck he longed to brush aside. “Rest. Recover,” he told her. Then he gave into temptation and slid his hand beneath the curl. His fingertips grazed her skin and she quivered. His body tightened up at that minute sign of responsiveness. He leaned down, bringing his lips close to her ear. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he breathed and kissed the tender flesh just below her ear. He was rewarded when he felt a deep, bone-jarring tremble through her. But she kept her head averted. She remained silent and her silence was a challenge.
    He slid his hand around her tiny waist and pressed gently. “Ah, Elisa, you deny me still,” he said with mock despair, as he felt the corset beneath.
    “Let me go,” she breathed.
    “Certainly,” he agreed, dropping his hand.
    “Thank you.” She stepped into the room and turned to grasp the door handle. Her gaze at last met his. Those big blue eyes seemed almost luminous. Vaughn felt his heart give a little skip.
    Slowly she closed the door and still he didn’t move.
    “Sweet dreams, my lady,” he whispered. The door finally closed.
    He smiled at the door, knowing she still stood there on the other side. Was her hand on the wood as his was now? Did her heart pound like his with the anticipation of what was to come?
    Hearing footsteps behind him, he dropped his hand and turned to find Marianne watching him. The maid’s mouth was in a grim line as she walked toward him. He read a number of warnings in that stare.
    He knew the Frenchwoman cared deeply for Elisa and it was patent she didn’t like him.
    “Good afternoon, Marianne,” he said, reinforcing the greeting with a smile.
    The maid did not smile back.
    * * * * *
     
    Elisa woke late. Marianne stood over her, a cup of tea in her hand.
    “My lady, dinner has already begun. I thought you were awake when last I came in or I would have never left.”
    “Oh, goodness,” Elisa said, sitting up quickly.
    “His lordship is asking for your presence. Quickly, get up and I will help you dress.”
    Rufus would be furious.
    Her heart thumping erratically, Elisa climbed from the bed. She glanced at the Ormulu clock on the mantle and groaned under her breath. Though she had slept for three hours, it felt like only minutes. And now she was late and Rufus would not let her forget it.
    Elisa took the teacup and drained the lukewarm tea with a grimace while Marianne scurried about, pulling out underclothes, a fresh corset, choosing a gown. Then she put the cup and saucer down and stripped off the bed gown as Marianne held out the clean chemise.
    Within quarter of an hour she was dressed. There had been no time for any decisions and she realized the gown Marianne had picked was more daring than Elisa was used to wearing. It was a deep vibrant blue water-washed satin creation she’d had made just before Roger’s death—when she’d hoped an alluring gown would help their relationship ease a little, when all her hopes for a happy marriage had not been completely dead. The bodice and waist were tight and Marianne had laced her accordingly, lifting her breasts high. As a consequence, the low neckline showed much more of her breasts than usual. The gown barely skimmed the edges of her shoulders, and the big bell sleeves seemed to threaten to pull the gown from them altogether, although her corset and the tight bodice in fact assured the gown would not slip to reveal more than it should.
    The layers of petticoats beneath let the wonderful material fall in ruffles and ripples that showed off the moiré effect and when she walked the very slight train pulled the skirts back, fanning them and displaying the fabric to best effect.
    While Elisa stared at herself in the mirror, wondering how she dared appear in such a gown and knowing she had no time to change, Marianne piled her curls on top of her head and pinned them