Nevertheless, it was Caleb’s touch on her skin that provoked a familiar tingling. Not the same intense throbbing Randolph incited, but an immoral receptiveness she couldn’t explain. She wanted to blame the wine, but she had only drunk one glass, maybe two if one chose to count the nearly empty glass left in the parlor.
Tonight, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Undisciplined in the most ancient of art forms cultivated at an early age in most females, she decided now was the perfect opportunity to partake in flirtatious behavior. After all, when a woman was about to embark into the field of prostitution, there could be no safer male to practice on than one who preferred another male.
“Not with you by my side,” she said coyly, noticing his brows arch infinitesimally.
“I am but your humble servant.” He pulled out her chair, his words a whispered breath in her ear.
Her pulse raced with excitement. She felt like a giddy, young girl presented at court, rather than the annoyance she had actually felt when her parents had forced the horrendous ordeal upon her.
“However I may be of assistance,” he continued in a low tone, leaning closer. His cheek inches from hers.
Her heart leapt in her chest. So this was what flirting felt like? This was fun. No wonder young girls were always laughing and blushing.
“I’ll have your wrap retrieved.” He straightened abruptly, his voice devoid of emotion. “An extra log added to the fire. Perhaps you wish a cup of coffee to warm you?”
Taken aback by the spurn, she flashed a glare over her shoulder.
His perfectly lined lips curled into a pleasant grin.
Oh, Caleb was smooth. Smooth like a prickly pear. Her mouth opened for an ever-ready sharp retort.
“Apologies, everyone, delayed as usual.” Randolph Sinclair waltzed in the dining room, with a shamelessly brazen look upon his face aimed directly at her.
Her body responded instantly, tightened with a lusty ache.
“Seems as of late my conversations have brimmed with apologies.”
She felt her face blush. When did she start blushing? One look at him made her feel things she never felt before—hot, tingly, breathless, and achy. He crept into her dreams at night and filled every quiet moment during the day. Suddenly, she envisioned the warmth of his hands on her breasts, the sensations he aroused as he inserted his fingers insider her, touched her until she…Dear Lord, what happened to reason? After practically throwing him out of her room this afternoon to preserve her sanity, not to mention her virtue, she hoped she had seen the last of him.
Unable to look away, Cassie observed him address the men with a firm handshake and kiss the females on their cheeks. Her heart rate increased with each passing moment.
Gorgeous as sin in formal black evening attire, he strode toward her exuding devastating charm and assurance. Dressed in a crisp, white cravat against the black of his stylish suit, his classic bone structure was accentuated splendidly. Tailored trousers molded his well-defined legs, adding to his already over-abundant sexual magnetism.
Suddenly, she felt unsuitably dressed in dowdy, brown woolen in comparison to Megan’s elegant, rose-colored evening gown. Even Emma and Shelby were fashionably dressed in silks and lace. Sitting up straighter, she relied on her impeccable manners and faultless posture to display her worthiness to sit in the company of such flagrant beauty.
“Ah, Miss McKinley, a very pleasant surprise to see you this fine evening.” He slipped into the chair next to hers and swept her hand in his. His bold gaze intensified.
“No one is more surprised than I, Dr. Sinclair.” Abruptly, she withdrew her hand and glanced around the room, afraid the others would notice the effect he had on her. Devin and Megan sat at opposite ends of the table. Caleb, Shelby, and Emma sat across the table, engrossed in a discussion to determine which game to play after dinner.
“Randolph, please,” he insisted. “My office is miles away.”
“You were the last person I expected to see tonight.”
“That can definitely be arranged.” A lustful invitation shined in his eyes.
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Not yet.”
“Sir, you are very bold.” She dipped her silver spoon in the potato bisque the waiter placed in front of her.
“Confident.”
“Arrogant.” Carefully, she lifted the spoon and slipped it between her lips.
“Shall we discuss the distinction while enjoying the view of the sunrise from my bedroom? Yours, shall we say, is too—”
“Too shabby, too infested? Oh, I know. Too many eyes for your tastes.”
He smiled innocently, a misleading look on a man so handsome. “I was going to say too small. My bed is much larger. Much more room in case you feel the need to spread out and make yourself comfortable.”
“You don’t waste a moment on chit-chat.” She touched the corners of her mouth with the napkin, and for a second, she thought she heard his breath catch.
“Daybreak is not far off.”
“Is this when I’m supposed to agree and we rush off?” She swirled the bright green chives sprinkled atop the creamy surface into the thick, rich soup.
“Your eagerness flatters me. Try to wait at least until after the main course. Departure before the appetizer is ill mannered.”
The air around her was laden with his presence, dangerous and tempting as he leaned closer. Briefly, she closed her eyes, resisting, refuting the rush of heat flaring through her at his illicit proposal.
“After all, you will need sustenance to keep up.”
Cassie turned slightly. Her gaze fixed on the gentle curve of his full lips. For a mad, uncontrollable moment, she wanted to touch them with her own. She tersely reminded herself she wasn’t some young girl easily swayed by an enticing smile and bewitching blue eyes. Nor was she the harlot he presumed her to be. Bluntly proposition her into his bed because of her lewd appeal—how dare he? Unable to trust her rioting nerves not to betray her chaotic emotions, she murmured slowly, “Doctor…”
He raised a brow, as if to remind her of his request for informalities.
“Dr. Sinclair,” she finished. “I intend to wait a lifetime.”
Unperturbed, this time, his smile was anything but innocent.
In that moment, she decided she detested Doctor Randolph Sinclair, truly detested him with vehemence. She hated everything about him except for maybe his smile. She hated everything about him except his sexy smile and eyes—no, his sexy smile, sultry eyes, full lips, and wicked fingers. Oh, yes, she hated everything else about the unbearably arrogant doctor of sin.
Megan’s voice drew Cassie’s attention away from the madness assailing her sensibilities. She soon found herself in conversation with everyone seated at the table.
The fish was divine, chocolate mousse heavenly, and wine exquisite. She learned the wine was from the Sinclair vineyards in France. Randolph’s family also owned shipyards, which the Spawns used to import and export goods. By the time dinner ended, the conversation flowed easily on a variety of subjects. Cassie answered each inquiry politely, evading the more intimate details of her life, managing to direct the conversation to impersonal topics.
Caleb reminisced about his and Randolph’s prep school days, medical school, and the opening of two clinics. When Caleb mentioned their notoriety in the medical field due to their research on the transfer of contagion, Randolph actually managed to look humble.
The disclosure shed a favorable light on Dr. Sin. If charm, sensuality, and well-honed muscle beneath fine-tailored garments were not enough, his intelligence and compassion added to his fascination. Why did he have a passionate drive to serve others, a respectable goal she admired and shared?
Try as she might, she was keenly aware of the fierce sexual magnetism generated from the masculine piece of physical perfection seated by her side.
Everyone adjourned to the family room. Unlike formal households where the men remained in the dining room while the women
retreated to the parlor, the Spawns followed a casual pattern. The evening entertainment centered round Shelby and Emma and the card games they played.
When Randolph led her by the hand over the rich carpet to a soft couch facing the fireplace, away from everyone else, she did not attempt to pull away. Perhaps it was the family atmosphere, the wonderful dinner, or even the wine. She stared up at him and smiled.
“The world is enriched by your smile, Miss McKinley. You should do so more often.”
“Raised with five brothers, I’m quite adept at pugilism. If you do not cease from calling me Miss McKinley, my promise holds true.” She reminded him of her threat to throttle him during her in-depth exam.
Taking her hands in his, he drew her down beside him onto the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. “My dear pet, have you not heard bees are gathered with honey?”
“Bees sting when provoked.”
“Stinging, biting, scratching, a nibble here or there, I shan’t complain.”
“Miss McKinley, would you care to join us in a game of whist?” Shelby stood in front of her, big blue eyes wide with innocent animation.
“Thank you for the offer, Shelby. Truthfully, I am the most ungracious card player. Seldom do I follow rules.”
“Oh, that is quite all right. Be my partner. Emma makes up her own rules. We can team together and beat her for a change.”
Cassie smiled at the endearing child. “Don’t ever let anyone discourage you when you’ve set your mind to something just because you’re a female. Emma has the right idea, always live by your own rules. There isn’t anything that says you cannot make your own rules as well.”
“Emma,” shouted Shelby excitedly as she bounded off. “This time, I am going to win. Miss McKinley said I don’t have to follow your rules. I can make up my own.”
She watched Shelby and Emma become embroiled in a heated debate, Megan their referee. “Oh, heavens, what did I start?”
“Do you follow your own advice, do as you please?” he asked with a wicked smile, smoothing the tips of his fingers up her bare forearm slowly.
She looked down at her flattened palms on his thigh, perilously close to a distinct bulge. He had an erection. Her body reacted. A flood of desire drenched her silk pantaloons. So near to him, she felt the heat coming off his body.
He crossed his legs and shifted on his hip, as if to conceal their hands. The movement wedged her fingers between his thighs.
Mercy, her hands were so close to that intimate part of his body she could practically feel its hot thickness in her grasp. She nervously debated for a moment. Lie. Tell him anything to discourage him. “Yes,” she whispered.
“We embrace the same disposition, my pet. My desires are always consummated.” He inched closer, his voice low, sensual.
For an instant, the air seemed to leave the room, making it hard for her to breath. How could he manage to flip advice to a child into something so suggestive? His tone, his gaze, his scent, everything about him stroked her skin, obscured her senses, and preyed upon her self-control.
“I serve others,” she exclaimed impulsively. Instantly, she felt like a bumbling idiot.
A single brow rose on his handsome face. He sat back in a languid pose. “How promising. In what capacity do you serve?”
Now she did it. She was going to have to reveal part of her life, meant to remain private during her mission of discovery. “Women. I educate women.”
“In Ireland?”
“How did you know?” Cassie gasped, a bit louder than intended. The girls’ ringing laughter behind them only served to add to her sudden nervousness.
“A faint Irish accent lingers in your voice. I assume it’s been hushed by your extensive travels.”
“Observant.”
“You’re far from home. With no one to educate, aren’t you bored in that dreary room all alone night after night? Or have you found a use for the wooden toy I left in your care?”
“I find other ways to occupy my time.”
“If you elect to tutor someone in, say, the procreation of our species, you will find I am a very apt pupil.”
“I surmise you have that topic well covered.”
“Where you are concerned, dear Katherine, the issue is not as well covered as I prefer.”
“Oh, contrary, your reputation precedes you. After a visit from the most notorious rakehell in America and abroad, the tavern is abuzz with salacious tittle-tattle. Thanks to you, I am quite the celebrity. Gretchen even took G’font away in case you paid another call. Can you believe there are even clean sheets on the bed and a pillow?”
He half smiled. “Since I single-handedly managed to tarnish your reputation, will you demand I perform my gentlemanly duty?”
She gazed at him in wonder. For the briefest of moments, she wanted to say yes. In the next moment, she thought better. What would she actually be saying yes to, her hand in marriage?
“Excuse me, Katherine.” Megan’s voice from behind drew her attention.
Grateful for the interruption, Cassie looked over her shoulder at Megan.
“It’s the girls’ bedtime,” Megan continued. “Caleb is taking them upstairs to read a bedtime story. Devin and I are on our way to check on Reed. We will be back before your hansom returns.”
“Of course, don’t let me interfere with your domestic routine.” Having helped scores of women escape intolerable marriages, Cassie respected the unending commitment involved in raising children. She waved at the girls lingering near the doorway hand in hand with Caleb. She noticed Devin was already absent. She spoke to Megan. “If Emma and Shelby wouldn’t mind, I’d love to sit with them and listen to Caleb read them a story.”
“No!” protested Randolph, drawing surprised glances from both women. “Um, Caleb, he takes that sort of thing seriously.” He frowned, rubbing his chin in a nervous fashion.
Megan looked down, her pale cheeks flushed.
Cassie followed Megan’s gaze to where her hands disappeared underneath Randolph’s dinner jacket. Good heavens, she had yet to remove them. If she did so now, it would appear terribly suspicious. She rationalized it was best to leave them where they were.
“That is true,” Megan said with a twinkle in her eye. “Story time is a bedtime ritual. I’m afraid if you put in an appearance, they’ll be so excited Caleb will never get them to sleep.”
“A mother knows best.” Cassie smiled amiably, guessing a conspiracy. Being alone with Randolph Sinclair was cause for extreme concern.
“Randolph, be a sweetheart, and entertain Katherine during our absence.”
“With pleasure,” he quietly replied.
“Are you attempting to seduce me?” she asked bluntly once Megan was beyond audible range.
“Attempt implies there is a possibility for failure. I never fail. Would you care for a drink?” His deep voice held a sensual undertone that made her pulse quicken.
Her gaze held his for a moment. Suddenly, she tallied dozens of willing ladies consumed by that same carnal gaze and sinful smile. How many women had he seduced? She couldn’t be the only female addicted to his touch. “Is wine your favored tool of seduction?”
* * * *
“My dear pet, for the past several minutes, your lovely hands have held on to my cock.” He brushed aside his jacket, uncovering her hands. Her fingers wrapped around the length of his erection. Her hands had gravitated to his erection of their own accord. With the arrival of Megan, her grip had become even more distracted to the point it became painfully unbearable.
She shrieked, snatching her hands away and turned a striking shade of red in the process.
“Believe me, I’d rather have you coherent. To know what you’re doing when I take you.” Randolph reached for the liquor decanter on the table in front of the sofa. For the first time in his life, he was relieved a woman removed her hands from his erection. On the verge of bending the shaft in a manner unintended by the love gods, he alleged she was a worldly woman in all ways but one.
The one in which he was most interested.
Bearing in mind she was a virgin, a certain delicacy was in order. It was only proper considering his experience. Hell, but when did he ever do what was proper when it came to what he wanted? A glance into those emerald pools, reflecting a blaze of passion amidst turmoil and unease, and he conceded. When he recalled her reason for seeking him, the birth control devices most likely hidden in her traveling trunk along with that flimsy white nightgown, his erotic fantasies went into overdrive.
“A difficult task considering my consent is implausible. Though I don’t know what has come over me this evening. If my memory serves correctly, I only had four, five, maybe six glasses of wine during dinner. Perhaps another would settle my…” She seemed to lose her thoughts as her gaze dropped to his hands. “Shall we see if your chances improve considerably with another glass of wine?”
He noted her half-lidded eyes took on an irrepressible passion enhanced no doubt by the numerous glasses of wine she claimed to have consumed. “If you feel tipsy, by all means, no more,” he impertinently replied, pouring himself a glass of wine. He replaced the lid on the crystal decanter.
“If I want another drink, then I shall have one. My father doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“Perhaps he should.” He polished off the entire contents. “Someone sure as hell needs to.” The last thing he intended was to sound paternal, given that his intentions were far from fatherly. He wanted her complete, unadulterated participation when he deflowered her. To feel the finest and most sensual bodily pleasures life had to offer. Not a semiconscious, ham-fisted reaction.
“Excuse me!”
“If you have another drink, you’d blame your actions on liquor in the morning. When I make love to you, it will be because you desire it above all else. Come clean, Katherine, you intend to attribute what you feel for me to a preordained drunkenness.” Unlike most women, she hadn’t learned to shroud her desires. Despite her feigned bravery and quest for independence, he sensed the fear suppressing her sexual cravings that hovered beneath her cool resolve.
Cruise, Samantha - Devil's Promise: The Garden [The Devil's Playground 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 12
