Page 66 of Rogue of My Heart

“Put your mouth on him.” Amelia’s eyes dropped to look at Charlotte’s lap. “Lick and suck him there. He will go insane.”

“On his member?” Charlotte asked.

Amelia grinned broadly and nodded. “Oh, the noises I can cause him to make.”

“You are scandalous.”

“I know! Being married is such fun sometimes. And he can do that to you too.” Then she fanned herself.

“How did I never know any of this about you?” Charlotte asked.

“These discussions are best had between married ladies. He will not be able to resist you forever, Charlotte.”

Charlotte nodded and took a deep breath. She considered her friend’s advice the entire ride home, and for the remainder of the day. Before the evening meal, she took a sweet-scented bath, scrubbed her body, and then lathered herself with lanolin until she felt certain she was as appealing and soft as possible.

She’d donned a new gown for dinner, one that accented the blue of her eyes. Her hair had been pulled up in a simple but effective coif, drawing attention to her décolletage, bare shoulders, and neck. This was all the first part of her seduction plan. The second part depended entirely on how well dinner went.

Edmond set down the decanter and picked up the glass. He swirled the amber-colored liquor around, watching the prism effect of the liquid. Charlotte had looked so damn beautiful tonight. That blue gown had perfectly matched her eyes, and against that pale perfect skin of hers, he’d been unable to take his eyes off of her. He’d wanted nothing more than to bend her over the table, pull up her skirts and plow into her until he forgot all about rejected proposals and stupid masked thieves.

So far, he wasn’t having any difficulties appearing to be the smitten husband. It was easy to watch her. Easy to find her in any room. She was taller than most women. And that black, black hair of hers against her fair complexion was enough to drive any man to madness. Her figure was lush and curvy in the way a woman was meant to be. Her narrow waist led to a flared set of hips and rounded bottom, her breasts so perfectly ripe, he was damn near ready to write a poem about them.

He downed the liquid, then poured himself another. It was getting more and more difficult to stay away from her at night. The last three nights he’d stood at the door adjoining their suites and just listened to her breathe. He was pathetic. She was his wife. He had rights as her husband. She wouldn’t even deny him, he knew that. Her body would blossom under his touch. He knew that much, and he was being stubborn by denying them both the pleasure.

It was the greatest irony that the man she fancied was in fact him, only a part of him he’d invented. What would she do if he told her? If he came into her bedchamber wearing that mask? He downed his glass and leaned back onto the settee, his arm draped over his eyes. Maybe he should have another drink. One after another, until he just passed out. Then he wouldn’t have to think about what he wasn’t doing to his wife upstairs.

A knock came at the door, then it opened. “Edmond, are you in here?” It was Charlotte, her voice soft and uncertain.

“Yes, I’m here.”

The door closed and he could have sworn he heard it lock. But he didn’t move. Maybe she’d come to hit him over the head with something. He likely deserved it.

“Are you feeling ill?” she asked, her voice closer now.

He moved his arm and opened his eyes. “Tired. That’s all.”

She bit down on her lip. Than infernal lip-bite that made him want to bend her over the desk and lose himself inside her.

“Do you need something?” he asked.

She said nothing, simply stood there, watching him. Then her hands went to the tie at her waist and she undid it, shrugged her shoulders and her dressing gown slid to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her glorious skin.

“Christ.” He smoothed a hand over his face. “What are you doing, Charlotte?”

“I should think it would obvious. We have not consummated our union, and I’m not certain if you were waiting for me to tell you I would accept you into my bed or not. But I wanted you to know that your advances would be welcome.” Her chin lifted ever so slightly. She was glorious. Standing there in her unblemished alabaster skin.

He hadn’t even let his eyes wander to take in the nuances of her curves. “We don’t exactly have a normal marriage,” he began. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at himself. “Things are complicated. I thought you’d want to settle into our relationship more.”

She frowned and her arms jerked as if she wanted to cover herself, but she didn’t. She just stood there, every perfect feature of her body on display for him.

So he let his eyes slowly eat up her frame. Her rounded, pert breasts with the pale-pink tips... The indention of her waist that flared out in her curved hips... That sweet, sweet dimple of a navel in the gentle slope of her stomach... Those impossibly long legs that were exquisitely shaped and made him wish she could wear trousers... The triangle of black curls nestled between her thighs that made his mouth water.

“I know you want me,” she said, her voice firm. “I can see the desire in your face.”

“Wanting you has never been the problem. You’re a beautiful woman, Charlotte, every man wants you.” She was right though. He wanted her. So much, it was driving him insane.

“But you are my husband. It is your duty to see to my needs. Perhaps you don’t realize that women have such needs. I was led to believe that men were insatiable in the bedroom, but you seem perfectly content to never touch me.” Her voice hitched on that last word, but she did not cry. She wouldn’t let herself, he knew that much. “Is it that you already have someone? A mistress you’re attached to?” She took a step back and nearly folded in on herself, as if that thought hadn’t even occurred to her until that moment.

“Come here.”