Truly Yours; The Scandalous Life of a True Lady; and The Wicked Ways of a True Hero by Barbara Metzger

Author:Barbara Metzger [Metzger, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Untreed Reads Publishing
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Sarah had laid out another nearly transparent nightgown. The blue gauze had white ribbons for straps instead of sleeves, and a matching see-through robe with a white satin collar. Simone wore both to bed, and still pulled the covers up to her chin. Then she tried to stay awake with a book she borrowed from Sandaree. She could not read the words, but the pictures…

No, that was impossible. No, a lady would never do that. Were those two ladies? No body could bend that way, could it? No, no, no! Except for one or two maybe’s, and a few oh, my’s. She hid the book under her pillow when she heard Harry speaking to Metlock in the dressing room, before he came into the bed chamber in his robe.

He sighed when he saw the blankets on top of the bed, on one side. “At least it’s not the floor again.”

“Did you learn anything?” she asked. She certainly had.

He yawned. “Nothing out of the usual. This fast crowd always gambles too high, whether they have funds or not. I heard no whispers, saw no groups holding private conversations. I’m hoping Daniel has better luck in the village, or Jeremy and Sarah among the servants.”

Harry should be gathering information too, instead of adding more disturbing images to those already in Simone’s head, with his smile and his bare feet. “Maybe some of the men are staying up later, after the house is quiet.” And maybe he’d stay away long enough for her to fall asleep.

“I waited until they all went to their bedrooms with their partners. Except Caldwell and Bowman, who must have changed horses midstream, so to speak.”

“They switched partners?”

“Why not? You must know by now that loyalty is not valued here.”

“Would you…? That is…?”

“Choose a different lady?” He pulled her over to his side of the bed. “No.” He pressed her against his chest, cursing about the blankets in the way, which was not exactly a love poem like Miss Althorp’s verses, or a romantic aria like Claire’s, but he’d said no. How could she not kiss him? How could she stop kissing him?

Harry did not seem inclined to stop on his own, either, moving from her lips to her neck to her shoulders, and then to her breasts, over the sheer fabric of her negligee. The bed coverings were pushed aside, and so, it seemed, were both their good intentions. If not for a coal tumbling in the fireplace, who knew where the kisses would lead, except the illustrators of Sandaree’s book.

At the noise, Harry pushed her back to her side of the bed. “Maybe I ought to put my sword between us after all. You are too damned hard to resist.”

Now a corner of her heart felt as warm as the skin he’d touched. She reached for his hand.

He brought hers to his lips, then held it against his cheek, before rolling further away from temptation. “I did have an interesting conversation, though,” he said. “Gorham asked

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