gown. “Forgive me in advance if I still try,” she whispered against Charlotte’s shoulder as she pushed her gown down one arm. The hair on Charlotte’s arm stood up, as did every other hair on her body. Not to mention her nipples. They beaded into small points. Then Charlotte’s lips touched her bare shoulder. It was a brief touch, but it made Charlotte’s belly drop toward her toes. “Mary,” she warned.
“Beg your pardon,” the other woman said. But Charlotte could feel the curve of her smile against her skin. “Trent wanted me to try to seduce you. Without telling you why I’m here. To see how you would respond.”
“Not favorably,” Charlotte grunted.
Mary stepped in front of her and tugged the sleeves of her gown down her fingertips and then shoved it over her hips. “Your bath will be getting cold. I’ll call for more hot water as soon as I get you settled.”
“I can do the rest.” Charlotte turned her back to Mary. She stepped out of her drawers and tugged her chemise over her head.
“Allow me to help with the stockings,” Mary said quickly. Then she was on her knees be hind Charlotte, quicker than Charlotte could blink. Mary took Charlotte’s naked hips in her hands very gently, her fingers playing over her skin like the lightest breeze. Nothing at all like her late husband’s groping, gnarly hands.
“That’s not necessary,” Charlotte protested, stepping away from her. “I can do it.” I don’t know how to feel about your hands on me. They make my heart race. I’ve never felt like this. She slid her stockings down her legs in a quick thrust and stepped into the still-steaming water. She settled gingerly against the back and reached for the soap.
“Allow me, my lady,” Mary said, taking the soap in her own hand. “Sit forward.”
Charlotte supposed this was all right. Her maid did this for her. But for some reason, her maid didn’t make her heart pound in her chest the way Mary did.
“I unsettle you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A powerful one.
Charlotte nodded, her chin bobbing against her knee as Mary soaped her back. “Yes,” she agreed.
“I believe Trent wanted me to teach you some things…” Mary began hesitantly.
“What sort of things?”
“About pleasure.” She held up a hand when Charlotte began to sputter. “But since you’ve no interest in learning, perhaps we can talk.” She pushed Charlotte’s shoulder so that she reclined against the back of the tub. Charlotte’s breasts rose just above the water, and she settled deeper into the tub, until they were hidden. “Perfect,” Mary said on a whisper, not drawing her gaze from Charlotte’s breasts.
“There is nothing perfect about my body.”
“That’s what your husband told you?” She arched her delicate blond brows at Charlotte.
Charlotte obviously didn’t have to answer, because Mary just continued. “He was wrong.” She looked directly into Charlotte’s face when she said it.
“My hips are too wide. My breasts too small.” He’d said that and more. Much more. Each statement more hurtful than the next.
Mary’s hand dipped into the water and cupped one breast in a sudsy grip. “Your breast fills my hand,” she said quietly. “Look.”
Charlotte looked down hesitant to verify that Mary’s hand did, indeed, cup her breast in a firm, comfortable grip. Her husband’s grip had never been firm or comfortable. It had always hurt. Or shamed. And one was just as bad as the other.
“Stop thinking about him,” Mary whispered with a soft smile. “Think about me. About the way this feels.” She slowly stroked her thumb through the suds on Charlotte’s breast. Mary was all Charlotte could think about. Mary’s hand, Mary’s gentle touch, Mary’s soft voice, Mary’s silky tone. “ Have you ever reached climax?” Mary asked.
Charlotte had enough married friends who talked to know what climax was. But she wasn’t certain she’d ever had the pleasure. Mary laughed. “If you’re not certain, it never happened,” she said. Then, her voice a silky whisper, she prompted, “I can help you try it, just this once. No pressure. No man pushing you on. Just you and me.” She took Charlotte’s hand and cupped it around her other breast. “Touch yourself,” she urged.
This was wrong. So wrong. But Charlotte’s blood was thumping so loudly in her ears that she could hear it. “Something is happening to my body that I don’t understand.”
“I know,” Mary whispered. Her free hand dipped into the water between Charlotte’s legs.
“Don’t,” she cried. Charlotte clamped her legs closed tightly together trapping Mary’s hands in its place above her curls. She sat forward, causing her breasts to rise above the water.
“Relax,” the woman whispered. Then her head dipped and she drew Charlotte’s wet nipple into her mouth.
Heat immediately rushed through Charlotte’s body, a heat unlike any she’d ever felt before. She melted there in the bath, as Mary’s wicked little tongue tick l ed her nipple. Then she moved to the other breast, treating it in the same gentle manner. Charlotte relaxed, freeing Mary’s hand. When Mary lifted her head, Charlotte arched her back, wanting to pull her back down to her breasts. But then her hand began to play in Charlotte’s curls, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. With her gentle, silky fingers, she parted Charlotte’s folds and stole inside, stroking across that part of her that pounded.
“Oh, goodness,” Charlotte cried, laying her head back against the tub. She watched the satisfied smirk on Mary’s face, and didn’t care. Because what she was doing between her thighs was so deliciously wicked that she wouldn’t dare complain. This was what His Grace wanted. This was what His Grace would get. Just this once, she would allow herself this pleasure.
“Can it be this way with a man?” she asked quietly, a little sob in her voice that made her want to cringe. But the moment passed with the next pass across that nub.
“With the right man, yes,” Mary affirmed. “It can be better. It will be better with Trent than you could ever imagine. He’s a patient and powerful lover.”
The word powerful seemed out of place. She didn’t want a powerful man. She wanted this gentle woman.
“I’m here to show you what’s possible. Nothing more,” Mary reminded her.
Charlotte simply nodded, words escaping her. Mary’s hand continued its gentle exploration. One finger stole inside her, and then slid out just as quickly, taking Charlotte’s breath with it. That finger slipped through the heat of her, and then she used it to stroke across the little nub that was nearly so tender it was painful. In a very good way.
“That feels nice?” Mary asked. Charlotte watched her through hooded lashes, her head back on the edge of the tub.
Charlotte began to arch her hips, rising to meet that questing little hand. Mary chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed.
But then she stopped. She withdrew her hand. She stood up. Charlotte very nearly begged her to come back. But all good things must end, Charlotte assumed. “Come along,” Mary urged as she held out a towel. “I want to taste you,” she whispered to Charlotte as she dried her off.
“T-taste me?” Charlotte’s voice quaked.
“Yes,” Mary whispered, her lips a mere breath from hers. “Kiss me,” she dared with a smile. Then she touched her lips to Charlotte’s. Charlotte tentatively brushed her lips against Mary’s, keeping her lips closed and firm. “Soften for me,” Mary urged on a whisper. “My lips are soft. Yours can be, too. Open,” she commanded, and then the tip of her tongue teased at Charlotte’s lips. On Charlotte’s gasp, she swept inside, invading her mouth like a conquering warrior. She stepped forward, backing Charlotte toward the bed as she continued to wreak havoc on her senses. “I worried you would rebel,” she said when she finally lifted her head.
Charlotte had to drag herself from the passion induced haze she was in so she could respond. “I did, too.” A shiver stole up her body. “I should.”
Mary sounded much too cocky when she laughed and said, “But you won’t.” She pointed toward the bed. “Lay back.”
Charlotte scurried across the bed, and lay back, resting on her elbows, not at all ashamed of her nakedness. Not now. Not now that Mary had tasted her breasts. Not since she’d had her hands in the most private places she had. Now there was nothing to be ashamed of.
“You want me to make you climax,” Mary said as she lifted the edge of her dress and climbed up on the bed.
“Can you take this off?” Charlotte asked, fingering the soft material of her skirt.
