'You needn't
His perfect teeth flashed white in a grin. 'Lord, you
Sweeping past him, she threw a cheerful glance over her shoulder. 'A wee dram never hurt anyone.'
She seemed to know her way upstairs, and when he began to wonder if the young lady was more than she appeared, she came to rest at the top of the first flight and further piqued his interest by saying, 'I'd suppose you have Wales's suite.' She had seen with what deference he was treated by the staff during dinner. The big winners at the casino always had the best suites.
'Why would you suppose that?' His brows twitched. 'Or even know that?'
'That's a yes, I presume,' she lightly replied, turning to the left and moving down the corridor in a deliciously provocative stroll that further baffled him. Might she be a courtesan after all? Had he misinterpreted her persona or was she simply that good an actress?
Not that it mattered, he supposed. He followed her swaying form and alluring fragrance to the corner suite that overlooked the whole of the harbor as well as the palaces of Monaco across the bay.
'I do adore the Wales's suite.' Waiting for him at the doorway, she smiled at him with the most intriguing innocence.
'Do you do this often?' he softly asked, inserting the key into the lock.
'Win money at the casino or go to men's rooms?'
His glance swiveled to her, an ironic cast to his gaze.
'Maybe that's for you to find out, Monsieur Suffolk,' she sportively declared. 'Am I a woman of the night or not?' She struck a theatrical pose.
His gaze traveled slowly down her body, and when it returned to her face, he was smiling. 'We'll find out soon enough, won't we,' he softly said, pushing the door open. 'After you, Mrs. Greenwood.'
'Miss Greenwood,' she amiably corrected, brushing past him. 'I prefer forgetting my marriage.' She quickly spun around. 'You're not married, are you? Because while I understand fidelity isn't a requirement for a man-as evidenced by this suite that has never seen the presence of the Princess of Wales-nevertheless, I'd not wish to be a pernicious influence in a marriage.'
'Rest assured, I'm
'So emphatic, Mr. Suffolk,' she teased. 'One might almost think you don't believe in the institution.'
'Like you, I prefer my independence.'
'My goodness. Have you a conscience, Mr. Suffolk? Most men maintain their independence despite their marriages.'
'Might we discuss marital infidelity at some other time?'
'Oops.' She quickly placed her fingertips over her mouth and playfully batted her eyelashes. 'I'm hardly filling the role of courtesan with competence, am I? I'm here to please and be agreeable and never utter a discouraging word.'
'A pleasant thought,' he drolly murmured, placing the key on a small table.
'Are courtesans really like that?'
'Could we discuss that later as well?'
'Of course, we can simply discuss nothing at all. I love this suite,' she expansively murmured, flinging her arms wide and swinging around in a circle. 'All warm yellows and bouquets of flowers and rich damask furniture so soft you sink into it like a downy pool.'
He pushed away from the door. 'Have you been here often?'
'Only in passing, Mr. Suffolk. My servants' family are in service at the hotel, and I've seen every grand room- thanks to them.'
For some bizarre reason, he was pleased with her answer, although he had decided sometime ago that Miss Greenwood was no courtesan. She was a shade too prickly and outspoken. As a rule, courtesans were accommodating in the extreme. And after his recent visit to Baku where his friend kept a harem, he was well aware of accommodating women.
He found the contrast refreshing.
She had moved to the open terrace door and was standing with her back to him. 'I'm so incredibly happy,' she proclaimed, 'I could scream.'
'Please don't.'
She turned around and grinned. 'What if I do?'
'I'd have to find a way to silence you.'
Her brows rose. 'Really?'
They stood a few yards apart in the most sumptuous room in the Hotel de Paris on a warm spring night with the scent of jasmine on the air.
Expectation palpable.
She opened her mouth.
'Don't.'
Her smile was heated and tantalizing and so provocative, he wondered for a moment if he had been mistaken and she was trained to be alluring.
Her jubilant cry exploded into the quiet night and lasted only the brief time it took for the Duke of Grafton to cover the distance between them.
He moved incredibly fast for a large man, she transiently thought, and then his mouth covered hers and everything about him seemed large. She wasn't a small woman, yet his powerful body dwarfed hers, his ungentle mouth engulfed hers, and his large hands easily cupped her bottom, pulling her hard against his enormous erection.
She struggled briefly, perhaps out of shock for she wasn't averse to the bargain she had made, but he only tightened his grip. A tiny frisson shimmered down her spine at the tantalizing sense of helplessness, at the delicious sensation of being overwhelmed by this large, handsome man. He wanted her, not dispassionately like the emotionless couplings in her past, but with urbane gallantry and finesse and an intoxicating blend of virtuosity and ravishment that made her feel scandalously alive.
And wild.
She reveled in the heated pleasure provoked by the silken warmth of his mouth and exploring tongue, by the hard length of his body pressed firmly against hers. His kiss deepened, the taste and scent of him filling her mouth and nostrils, the exquisite feel of him becoming more familiar with each breath, more tempting as if his kisses served as appetizers and when she came to know him well, he would allow her the main course. In her urgency and desire, she slid her arms around his neck, lifted her face to better accommodate his mouth, melted against his tall, muscled frame and began kissing him back.
She kissed him like a woman who had never felt the flame of passion before, like a woman left in the wilderness for all of her life, her eagerness and hunger, her need to kiss and be kissed, captivating. She offered herself with such ardent intensity and longing, he felt a thrilling response he had not felt in years. Like the breathless gratitude in adolescence.
'This has been the absolute most perfect night,' she murmured, pulling away for a moment, gazing up at him with adoration. 'I didn't know a person could feel this good.'
A half smile appeared. 'You're easy to please.'
'No one's ever kissed me so-well-so perfectly, so I'm warm clear down to my toes. Do your toes tingle?'
'Absolutely. '
'Are we… I mean-do you want to-' Embarrassed, she blushed.
He gently brushed his fingertip over her pinked lower lip. 'We are and I want to and strangely my toes really are tin-gling.'
'Oh, good. That's
'Sex?'
She smiled. 'Yes. That.'
'You can say the word, you know. We're quite alone.'
'I'd rather not.'
He moved against her so the imprint of his erection was clearly felt. 'Sex is really a very nice word.'
