Page 19 of Dallying with the Diamond

“I like this game already,” she said, her voice breathless which he rather liked. “What next?”

“The game is a simple one. I ask you questions. For every question you answer truthfully, you may remove an article of my clothing. If you refuse to answer I don the last article I removed.”

“Here?” She tip-toed to the curtains and peered out. “There is nothing between us and discovery but these curtains.”

“And a locked door,” he reminded her. “But if you don’t want to play your forfeit is more pages of my journal.”

She turned and tapped her chin with her forefinger. “What sort of questions?”

“My choice.”

She glanced around the little room and found a cushioned stool which she placed in front of his chair. Once she sat down, she clasped her hands in her lap. “First question.”

“How many lovers have you had?” He didn’t know why he wanted to know. He simply did.

“Two, you and one other.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat, pulled it over his head, untied each arm in turn to slide it over his arms, and left him untied. When he raised an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “Your shirt is next.”

“You are awfully sure of yourself, my lady.”

“Next question.”

“Do you pleasure yourself?”

“Frequently.” she said. In a thrice she had him out of shirt. She retied his arms to the chair, even more tightly this time. Hemightbe in trouble.

“When you pleasure yourself, do you think of me?” These were not the questions he intended to ask, but the moment she walked into the room in a gown of the lightest blue with a bodice that raised her breasts and nearly spilled them into public view? All the blood had rushed to his cock and his brain had vacated the premises.

“Sometimes.” She removed one of his shoes.

“Only sometimes?”

“Yes.” She removed another shoe.

“That wasn’t an actual question.” The orchestra struck up an allemande.

“Yes, it was. Next question?”

“Do you really intend to marry Bitworth?”

She hesitated, then reached for one of his stockings. “I have little choice in the matter, so yes.”

“Is that what you want for your life?” These were the questions he’d wanted to ask. He had no business doing so, but he’d told himself she could refuse to answer.

“Why not? That is what I was born and bred for.” She removed his other stocking.

This game was not going as he had planned. He had planned on her refusing these questions.Dammit.

“Once you are married, will you take a lover?” His heart raced a little faster.

“No, I won’t.” Her face flushed. She met his gaze with a hard, determined gaze of her own. “But I don’t condemn any woman who does.” She began to unbutton the falls of his knee breeches.

“What did I say to anger you in my studio last week?”

She continued to work at the buttons. “You were not what your father wanted, but you had a way out and you took it. You have all sorts of ways out, or ways to be who you want to be rather than dwelling on what you think he wanted you to be.” She dragged his breeches down his legs, over his feet and tossed them behind her. His cock sprang up like a raw recruit saluting his first officer. She ignored it.

“You said I would not understand, you ignorant looby.” She raised her voice a bit and then bit her lower lip. “I am the perfect young lady, the perfect duke’s daughter, but I am not the one thing my father wanted. I am not his son. My mother suffered at his hands and tried over and over again to give him what he wanted until ten years ago when her body finally gave out during the stillbirth of yet another girl. So do not tell me I do not understand. You can be whatever you wish. All I can be is his perfect daughter, make the perfect marriage, and it will still never be enough.” She leapt from the chair and paced back and forth in the little gallery.

What had possessed him to do this? He had turned what should have been a merry, erotic game into a horrible wound between them. What a complete and utter fool he’d been.