Sharing the Coquette: The Greatwood Heiress #3 by Juno North

Author:Juno North [North, Juno]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

It was a warm evening, still unseasonably and (Arabella thought) unreasonably warm. She left orders for the French doors in the drawing room to be left open so the breeze could blow into the dining room, to help to move the still air. Still, sweat pricked at her spine beneath the tight cage of her corset, and the dampness traced the curves of her breasts, half-exposed in her evening gown.

Conversation was slow. Cunniham was glowering at his plate, a state of affairs that Arabella couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for, not that he was the best of company at the best of times. Mrs Whittington made a couple of attempts to draw him into conversation, without any success.

“You are very dull company tonight, sir,” Mrs Whittington said eventually.

“I am in no mood to be entertaining, madam, “ he replied, somewhat icily. Arabella found herself wishing, only half-coherently, that his words were ice. She would drop it into her chemise to cool herself down. Or perhaps trace the lines of her breasts with it, letting her nipples harden—

Goodness, it was hot in here.

“Are you accusing Miss Poke of holding dull dinners?” broke in Lord Likkit. “That is us gentlemanly of you, even although I could make a suggestion or two in how to enliven it.”

“Pray do not,” said Millicent. “I think I know what sort of suggestions you would make, and I don’t wish to hear them.”

“Do you?” asked his lordship with a suggestive waggle of his brows.

“Not at all,” said Millicent.

“I’d like to hear them,” Arabella astonished herself by saying. “Very much.” Because she did. There was something in the way that the nobleman raised his brows, about the slow smoulder at the back of his dark eyes, the pull of his lean lips that prickled at her cunt and made her want to do all sorts of mad things.

She wondered what he dreamt of at night. She wondered what all of them did.

“Bella!” Millicent’s eyebrows flew up, her eyes wide in shock. “Surely you do not know what you are asking.”

“Do you know Miss Poke?” Bycombe laughed from down the table. “I’m sure she knows exactly what she’s asking.”

“Miss Poke,” said Cunniham, a little stiffly, “is a keen pupil.” His voice was a little grudging, but she gathered he was agreeing with Bycombe.

“But—” whispered Millicent, her eyes still wide.

“Do not worry on my account, Millie,” said Arabella with a laugh. “I am a woman of the world, after all. I have prepared myself well.” She tossed her head, set down her fish fork and considered Likitt across the table. He considered her back. He had the sort of gaze that made Arabella feel as if he could see right through her clothing, through the layers of cloth and boning, and right to her naked flesh.

“So, my lord,” she said. “What would enliven this dinner?”

“Bella.” Millie’s voice was a warning.

Someone laughed. She was sure it was Bycombe. The low chuckle sounded like him.

“Hrm.” The nobleman seemed to give the question very serious thought.

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