He caught himself staring and forced the hard lump in his throat downward. In an effort to clear the heated thoughts clouding his senses, he turned to shut the door behind him.
Before he faced her, he took a moment to clear his throat and then attempted to complete his long-overdue apology. “Forgive me,” he said, taking his time to cross the room, memorizing every subtle nuance in her delicate, oval face. He held his breath while waiting for her to accept his extended hand. She stared at his hand for a moment, almost as if afraid to touch him. He tried to quell the sudden thrill of lust rushing through him when she finally placed her warm palm in his. Her skin was like silk, creamy silk, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of her body would feel against his.
“My sincerest apology for your prolonged wait,” he said, glad his voice sounded somewhat normal as he waited anxiously for her to raise her eyes to look at him.
The intensity of her emerald eyes met his. She was the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on, an auburn-haired beauty with translucent skin. Stop staring, he told himself again and again, but he couldn’t.
“Dr. Sinclair, I presume.” Her voice was soft but held a hint of boldness within the contralto harmony.
Politely, she withdrew her hand from his, and for a stupefied moment, his palm tingled from where their skin had touched.
“It would be presumptuous to assume you’d drop everything on my behalf. Mrs. Spawn was kind enough to offer your name when I mentioned my need for a physician. You see, I arrived a few days ago. I know no one else in town.”
“Please, Miss McKinley, have a seat.” He indicated a chair next to the exam table. He rolled a stool near the window and took a seat. Once again, he caught himself staring at the way the late afternoon rays filtered through the glass and made her hair glisten like shimmering satin. You are a professional. Conduct yourself accordingly. “How may I be of service?”
For long moments, she sat rigidly. Her dark red, curled lashes slanted downward to her lap, where slender fingers twisted a pair of crocheted gloves unmercifully. When she finally looked at him, there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “You may think me bold.”
That got his attention. “By all means, Miss McKinley, whatever ails you, I assure you, has troubled someone prior. There is nothing you can say that I have not heard before. Speak freely, for whatever you divulge does not leave this room.”
“Birth control,” she blurted.
A flying pig fell from the sky and landed on him. There could be no other explanation, for he felt as if his chest had been struck and the air pushed out of his lungs.
“I wish for you to recommend the safest and most reliable method available.”
To appear impartial, ignore how his body responded to the thought of her wanting to have sex, preparing for sex, speaking of sex—well, it was just too much for his manly imagination. It wasn’t every day a proper young lady made such an improper request. He leaned back and strategically rested a well-polished shoe on the opposite knee. His gaze drifted to her delicate hands, free from jewelry.
She quickly covered her left hand with her right, as if she noticed he took into account her fingers were minus a wedding band.
“Is it Miss or Mrs. McKinley?”
Her shoulders stiffened noticeably.
“Perhaps I should discuss suitable practices with your fiancé?” A very fortunate man indeed befriended Miss McKinley. Oddly, Randy wanted to meet the remarkable fellow who enticed her into his bed.
“Dr. Sinclair, I fail to see why we cannot discuss such matters. It is my body. Can you or can you not lend assistance?” She stared back at him without shame or embarrassment. Only fierce determination sparkled in a mysterious sea of vast green.
If refused, he reasoned she would turn elsewhere. A less scrupulous quack would prove a threat upon her health. If she wanted frankness, then, by Jove, he would give her frankness. “Very well, Miss McKinley, let us discuss your options.”
“Thank you.”
“Abstinence is the most reliable form of birth control for an unmarried woman. Coitus interruptus, withdrawal of the penis prior to ejaculation, if you are married, but men find that method challenging for obvious reasons. There are positi—”
“I see I’ve wasted my time,” she said abruptly, marching toward the door. “I’ll pay for your services on the way out.”
“Miss McKinley, wait.” When he realized she meant to leave, he reacted fast. A forceful hand on the door prevented her from opening it while his other hand gently covered her hand clenched over the doorknob.
“Don’t rush off, please,” he pleaded in a tender tone. “I’m totally at your service.” His fingers interlaced with hers. To his astonishment, she didn’t pull away.
She looked up at him and held his gaze a long, silent moment.
He not only saw the desperation in the almond-shaped, green eyes searching his, he felt it deep down in his bones. The glimpse into her soul made him ache to banish her agony the best way he knew how. His favored method of healing was a reckless and dangerous desire he smothered rapidly.
“Do you think me beyond intelligent opinion simply because I am a woman?” Her voice wavered.
“Forgive me for confusing you with a refined lady,” he said, unable to resist hinting she was there under false pretense. Everything about her spoke of wealth and privilege. She possessed an air of nobility. A single ribbon gathered long, silken locks neatly behind her back, hair as red as fire radiating like dancing sparks in the waning sunlight. Flawless skin glowed with supreme health, and her alluring perfume was of the highest quality.
Her plain, brown muslin dress implied working class though it was finely tailored and suspiciously new. She wore leather shoes constructed for endurance. They were the variety a shop girl would wear, except hers did not have a speck of dust or scratch on them. Oddly enough, Miss McKinley was going out of her way to deceive Boston society—more to fact, to deceive him.
“It’s not uncommon to receive such requests from women with dubious reputations,” he said out of rising frustration, recalling she was his patient, therefore unattainable.
She glared at him, snatching her hands from his.
“Of course, you don’t fall under that fallacious category either,” he added with an impish smile, steering her away from the door.
“Think of me what you will, Dr. Sinclair,” she replied, pacing the room. “I have grown accustomed to mislabel. If I were not…in need, I would not be making such a request.”
“Are you in some sort of dilemma?” His growing concern for her welfare astonished him. Did some wretched bastard already abandon her after getting her with child? If so, it was too late for birth control. “We abide by our rule to never provide a cure for interrupted menstruation.”
Her eyes widened with indignation.
Thankfully, his worse fear was for naught. She wasn’t there for an abortion.
“Perhaps if you tell me why the need is so urgent,” he probed, envying the man she planned to give herself to if she hadn’t done so already, “I would be better able to assist you?”
She was tall, full in the hips and bosom. Her waist was small for a woman of her stature. In other words, her body exuded temptation, and he wanted to lead her into the deepest and darkest depths of pure sin. His blood surged as he tried to picture her naked, bare thighs parting to accept him, her hips undulating and legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deep…
“My obligations have taken me around the world, Doctor Sinclair. I’m aware such devices exist. Surely, you can assist me without delving into my private affairs.”
Bold and beautiful, a unique mix he found refreshing. “Then you are aware bylaw prohibits me from discussing such matters with you. Society is under the impression contraceptive devices such as you speak of encourage promiscuity and lead to a rise in unwanted pregnancies if used improperly. There is also the concern of spreading disease.”
She tensed, seemingly taking offense to hi
s candor.
“Do not fret, Miss McKinley. I will help you. However, if it became common knowledge the clinic advocates family limitation, my partner and I would risk prosecution. What occurs between these four walls remains here. Do I have your word?”
“Rest assured I would be the last to dispel another’s confidence.” She smiled faintly.
Randolph tried not to notice the slight curve of her full, generous lips, very kissable lips. Despite his best effort, her lips stirred him, heated his blood. Suddenly, a most delightful thought occurred to him. “Before I offer counsel, a thorough examination is required. Please step behind the screen and remove your clothing.” He indicated the carved dressing screen in the corner of the room. “You’ll find a robe—”
“Is that truly necessary?” she interrupted, her face turning pink.
He found her modesty refreshing. “Sex is between two individuals. To protect you and your partner, a complete assessment of your health is in order.”
“I harbor no maladies.”
“Do you have a medical license, Miss McKinley?”
“Really, Doctor Sinclair, there is no need to be impolite.”
“Female sexual freedom contradicts protecting female virtue,” he retorted sternly. “Many men are too selfish to consider the consequences of sexual intercourse. By your coming here, I assume you have no desire to become heavy with child. There are numerous preventive measures from which to choose. A few allow for a mutually satisfactory coupling. Some are troublesome and do not afford spontaneity. Then there are those that offer superior protection against venereal disease. Unless the risk of syphilis, gonorrhea—”
“Everything?” she asked on her way to the dressing screen.
“Yes, Miss McKinley, remove everything,” Randolph answered calmly despite the blood coursing through his veins, headed straight for his groin.
For a brazen, worldly woman readying for fornication, she was unexpectedly inhibited regarding the removal of her clothing. He began to question how familiar she truly was.
He contemplated denying her what he offered every female patient. Within these walls and the clinic in France, he examined hundreds, if not thousands, of women of all shapes, sizes, ages, and stations in life. Easily he ignored the more aggressive females out to seduce, win over the famed bachelor shrouded beneath a white coat. Out of respect for medicine, the clinics, and his partner, he conducted himself honorably without fail.
“Miss McKinley,”—he spoke quickly before his mind changed—“if she hasn’t already left for the day, Mrs. Frasier, my assistant, may be present during the exam if you wish.”
* * * *
Cassie kicked off her shoes. Her deception unraveled before her eyes. It began with the lost trunk housing borrowed clothes from her housemaid in Ireland. Whilst at the dressmaker’s picking up an alternate wardrobe, she had met Megan Spawn. The dressmaker had thought her unwise to spend a small fortune on dated fashions designed for a commoner. Meanwhile, Cassie had deemed Megan a godsend.
When solicited, Mrs. Spawn boasted she knew the best physicians in town and offered Cassie a choice. Caleb sounded too biblical to suit her purpose. On hearing of Randolph, an old relic with a quiet, gentle bedside manner came to mind. Someone easily deceived into believing she was a newlywed. In her early morning haste, she rushed from the inn, forgetting the wedding band purchased for today’s visit. Her saving grace would have been if the ancient Dr. Sinclair was on the verge of blindness.
She should have known better. After all, the doctor’s name began with sin. Still, it would not have prepared her for the man himself. Never could she have imagined a tall, broad-shouldered doctor. He was so young, gorgeous, and startlingly male. His piercing blue eyes glittered with sensual knowledge and his lips were so succulent looking that she wanted to bite into them. To just look at him made her weak in the knees.
“Dr. Sinclair,” she called out, fingers stumbling halfway down the front ties of her new bodice. It was odd—every time he looked at her, she shuddered. She couldn’t explain her reaction. In the past, overt rakes had failed to impress her. A sweet, well-rehearsed word here, an accidental soft touch there, an easy smile meant to seduce, and Adonises of his caliber expected her to succumb.
Cassie rarely squandered a moment on vain nonsense. Pursuits of a more humanitarian and scholarly worth suited her. There were too many wrongs to right in the world.
Her beloved stepfather often alleged, “There is not a man alive able to scale the impenetrable wall you built around yourself.”
She swiftly shrugged out of her woolen dress. The idea of Dr. Sin examining her, his large hands touching places no man had ever seen before, least of all touched, sent a shiver through her.
A single woman seeking birth control—no doubt he considered her a degenerate. Had he noticed her breath catch and hand tremble when they touched? Perhaps hardened to patients pining after him, he took no notice.
Not that she was pining. She would never pine. Cassie, you do not pine, she scolded herself while yanking at the corset ties and letting it fall to the floor.
No arrogant, brash doctor with sultry, baby-blue eyes or nosy innkeeper could prevent her from fulfilling her objective. Even if her skin burned from his touch, she affirmed, removing one brown wool stocking then the other.
“Yes, Miss McKinley,” he replied.
There in his tone was a note of calmness, an air of self-assurance that did not sit well with her. Her petticoat slipped to the floor. If Dr. Sin assumed she’d cower, run out of the room in disgrace, remain virginal until duly wed, he was sadly mistaken.
One reason brought her to America and one reason only. Great lengths were taken months ago to painstakingly plan the voyage in secrecy. The fewer people who knew why she hid across the ocean, the better.
She removed the final undergarment, plain, white, cotton bloomers, and took a deep, strength-building breath. “I value my privacy.”
Raised with five brothers, she was hardly what one would call a cosseted female. The pretense of propriety derived from undressing behind a screen while in search of devices for immoral sex seemed ridiculous. Donning a robe for the sake of modesty before he touched her nude body was ironic, another female to witness the intimate inspection of her womanly form senseless.
With infinite bravado, she stepped from behind the screen completely naked.
“My preference is to keep my visit entirely confidential,” she declared vehemently, causing him to turn from where he stood by the window.
His gaze leisurely swept over her then went from the junction of her thighs to her breasts and returned to settle at the red-haired patch between her thighs. Pure masculine approval flashed in his eyes.
Standing naked in front of such overt masculinity wreaked havoc on her senses. Unable to move, she lowered her gaze in an attempt to avert the smoldering, unflinching look in his eyes. She gasped at the bulge in front of his trousers. He…he was aroused, she quickly realized. A fierce ripple of desire flowed through her cunt.
Afraid her heart would stop, she raised her gaze to find him watching her watch him. The dark look in his eyes turned wild, feral, as though he were a voracious beast ready to devour her alive. A flurry of excitement rushed through her. Yes! Devoured alive by Dr. Sin—she would enjoy, no, endure it purely for educational purposes.
He strode toward her, his step long and sure. Beyond a doubt the most gorgeous, virile man she had ever seen. What was he going to do to her?
Unable to control the lure, she stared directly at the approaching bulge that continued to rise and thicken before her eyes. It practically stuck straight out, almost reached out to her like a third arm. She tried to envision that imposing hardness pressed groin to groin, demanding entry into her womanly sheath. The thought alone made her feel helpless, weak, as if under a wicked spell for which there was but one remedy.
Heaven help her, her shameless reaction was so out of the ordinary, far from anticipated. Just another man, she told herself. A
professional doctor who performs examinations every day. At the very least, half probably undressed for him, and the majority were likely females. In essence, he wasn’t looking at anything he hadn’t already seen before. Surely, he did not intend to seduce her, stick that manly apparatus inside her.
She sucked in a deep breath and quickly stammered, “Wh–where do you want me?”
Abruptly, as if awakening from the same wicked spell, he stopped in front of her. His amazing, pale blue eyes deepened to dark orbs, searching the depths of hers, seemingly reading the depraved thoughts running through her mind.
She followed the path of his gaze that trailed to her mouth. His sensuous lips parted slightly, as if he intended to kiss her. Her insides melted, heart racing beyond measure. A powerful yearning overwhelmed her untried body. She angled her chin upward and swept the tip of her tongue across her lips in expectancy. She closed her eyes and waited for the first kiss in the twenty years of her disciplined and tamed life. She wondered how his lips would feel, taste against her lips. Would his kiss be everything she had ever dreamed a kiss should be?
After a tense moment, she felt the warmth of his breath brush over her lips. Excited, she heard herself moan in expectancy.
A long silence ensued.
She heard him take a step back and instruct hoarsely, “Have a seat on the table, Miss McKinley.”
Stunned, she blinked up at him.
What had happened? Had he gone hot to cold in an instant? She felt doused with a freezing dose of reality in such a humbling process. Had she just imagined his interest? Surely, the attraction was not entirely one-sided. From the obvious tension in his strong jaw to the grim set of his perfectly lined lips, he was a discontented man.
She turned her back to him, ignored the hand offered. Humiliated in the worst way possible, she felt foolish for believing he, too, was tempted beyond reason. That he would take her in his arms and kiss, ravish her without thought or consequence. It took every fiber of strength she could muster not to run out of the room in complete and utter shame.
Cruise, Samantha - Devil's Promise: The Garden [The Devil's Playground 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8
