If He's Sinful. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ started to explain everything, only to gasp in a strange mix of shock and delight when he settled his long body on top of hers. He held his upper body up by propping himself up on one forearm, but that did little to ease the intoxicating touch of his warmth and his weight. Even more startling was how eagerly her body responded when his hard length pressed against that mindlessly hungry place between her legs.

      “Let me take you away from this,” he offered, surprising himself.

      “Aye, that would be most kind of you,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper as she watched him slowly untie the silk ribbons holding the front of her immodest gown together. She should be shocked but she was mostly concerned that he would find her lacking.

      “I could set you up comfortably someplace, in a little house all your own.” He was not sure how he could afford it but was determined to find a way. Ashton ruthlessly silenced the little voice that whispered in his head, telling him he was acting as recklessly as his father.

      “Ah.” Penelope was disappointed but not terribly surprised. “So that I might service but one man instead of many and that one man would be yourself?”

      “It would be better than this, would it not?”

      “Quite possibly, but did you never consider the possibility that I might not wish to service anyone?” Especially not a man who did not even know who she really was and was courting Clarissa, she thought, frustrated by her inability to stop him or to act cold and unmoved by his gentle touch.

      “Then why are you here at all?”

      “That seems a rather naïve question. Do you truly think a woman wakes up one day and thinks—why, I do believe I will become a whore?”

      Lord Radmoor’s question had made Penelope think he would probably doubt her tale of kidnapping, drugging potions, and imprisonment. He obviously thought as too many others did, that a woman would willingly choose such a degrading profession. Some might, she mused, for they believed they would find a rich patron, but far too many of the women were dragged into this hell through trickery, force, or dire poverty. Just as she gained enough of her wits to relate her troubles with clarity, he moved his hand over her breasts and her wits were scattered all over again.

      Ashton closed his eyes and savored the way her soft breast fit so perfectly in his hand. “Perhaps it was a foolish question. Perhaps you had little choice.” He pressed a kiss to the warm skin between her breasts. “I am offering you a choice now.” He looked at her again. “What is your name?”

      “Penelope,” she replied, spellbound by the warmth in his eyes.

      “Penelope?” He smiled faintly, not sure he believed her. “An odd name for one of Mrs. Cratchitt’s girls.”

      “I am not one of her girls.” Penelope suddenly wondered if the madam was really married, and if so, where was her husband? She hastily buried that thought when the whispers began in her head and she knew someone or something was trying to answer her.

      “No? And what are you then?”

      She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was just humoring her. Nevertheless, with what little clarity of mind she could muster, she decided to tell him her tale. She doubted he would believe her, or even falter in his seduction for a moment, but she needed to at least try to plead her case. If nothing else, knowing that she had tried might help ease the sting of shame she was sure to suffer once he was gone and the power of Mrs. Cratchitt’s potion faded away. At least she hoped she would feel shamed if she gave her innocence to Lord Radmoor. She had the sinking feeling she might not be.

      “What if I told you I was the daughter of a marquis, cruelly kidnapped, and then sold to Mrs. Cratchitt? What if I said I was given a potion, dressed in this scandalous excuse for a gown, and tied to this bed all against my will?”

      “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Ashton thought it was just his wretched luck to experience his first taste of blind, hot lust for a woman who was beset by delusions.

      “Not really.” She sighed. “If you are offering me choices, might I choose to be untied now?”

      “In but a moment I will untie your ankles.” He began to encircle her long, slender neck with soft kisses and gentle nips. “I thought this a silly game but allowed my friends to push me into playing it.”

      “This is a game? What is it called?”

      “The Pagan Sacrifice game. Did they not tell you?”

      “No one told me anything. I did not realize that one played fanciful games in a brothel.”

      “A lot of games are played in brothels. I was never one to indulge in that. I have never been an imaginative man. Then I saw you. At that moment I realized that I did indeed possess a powerful imagination. My mind became crowded with ideas of how I would enjoy you, pleasure you. I realized I could do anything I wanted to. I intend to make you want it, too.”

      Penelope knew she was not herself when the heated images his words created in her mind were more exciting than alarming or shocking. She wondered if, somewhere in those many dreams she had had about this man, her thoughts had taken her far beyond kisses and sweet words of love. She did not recall anything particularly lascivious in her dreams but she had enough knowledge to have made them so. That would certainly explain why she woke up so many times all asweat and aching with a need she did not understand. Those dreams worked against her now, almost as much as Mrs. Cratchitt’s potion did.

      She shivered with pleasure so sharp it was almost painful when he covered her breast with a warm hand and slowly licked the space between her breasts. “Should you not kiss me first?”

      When he lifted his gaze from her breasts, Penelope caught her breath too quickly and nearly choked. It was as if she stared into the heart of a thundercloud. The gray of his eyes had darkened nearly to black and there was such heat in his gaze it warmed her skin. There was also the glint of amusement and curiosity. She had obviously just said something else that did not suit the role she was being forced to play.

      Such inconsistencies did not prompt him to ask any questions, though, she thought, and anger began to stir inside her. She knew enough about Lord Radmoor to know he was not some thick-witted dandy so it puzzled her that he would so blindly accept what a brothel madam had told him about her. It was not as if a woman who made her living selling other women was one a person should put much trust in. Like far too many people did, he simply accepted what he saw and used that to soothe away any doubts stirred by her words. Penelope wondered sadly how often that happened in such places, how often innocent girls and women were forced into this hellish life because no one asked questions and no one listened to them.

      Ashton saw the sadness in her beautiful eyes and gently framed her small, lovely face in his hands. He never kissed courtesans and whores, was even very sparing with his kisses with the rare widow or flirtatious wife who had favored him in the past. It was an idiosyncrasy others shared with him so it did not worry him too much. Despite the temptation of her soft, sensuous mouth, he had thought to hold fast to that rule, but the sadness in her eyes broke his resolve.

      He brushed his lips over hers and the warmth of them flowed through his body. “You taste so good.” Ashton hoped she could not hear the surprise in his voice, then wondered why he was so concerned about offering some insult. “You are a feast I could linger over for hours.”

      “My deepest apologies, sir, but I fear you shall have to step away from this banquet before you have had your fill. СКАЧАТЬ