Taming of the Rake (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 4) by Victoria Vale

Author:Victoria Vale [Vale, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Victoria Vale
Published: 2020-07-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Regina was certain if she paced much longer she would wear a hole in the rug. Anticipation of David’s arrival made her flinch at every sound, her pulse swift and unsteady. Powell had been instructed to see David to her door, then take himself elsewhere for the night. The footman’s presence was no longer needed, as her courtesan had gone out of his way to prove she had no reason to fear him. Besides, she’d been mortified enough at the things Powell had overheard the last time. If David’s touch between her legs for a few minutes was enough to have her cries echoing from the walls, there was no telling what reaction he might elicit once she gave him permission to do more.

The footman hadn’t been content to leave her alone with David unless she agreed to accept his knife, which he had slid into a tear he created in the side of the mattress. Once Regina had demonstrated that she could quickly retrieve it if need be, Powell had agreed to her request for privacy.

Goose bumps prickled along Regina’s arms as her gaze wandered to her neatly-made bed, and she imagined what might take place there in a few short minutes. Truly, her imagination was sorely lacking, but it was Regina’s hope to see that change by the end of the night.

Clutching at the folds of her nightgown, she took a peek at her reflection in the mirror. In an effort to stop avoiding her reflection, she had given it a more prominent place in the bedchamber. Was her effort at tempting David to desire too gauche? She hoped he would not think her pathetic, but after the weeks he had spent with a cold, rigid version of her, Regina hoped to make amends. Reason told her it shouldn’t matter. She was paying him, and that meant he was required to do as she asked and nothing more. But some secret part of her longed to know what he would think of the way her hair hung loose down her back, a startling splash against the gossamer white gown draping her body. The design of the nightgown was simple enough, but it was the sheer fabric that made it decidedly sinful. The pink shadows of her nipples were visible, as well as the red triangle of curls between her legs. The firelight shined clear through the fabric, outlining the flare of her hips and shape of her legs.

She turned away from the reflection, debating the matter of changing into one of her demurer gowns. This one had been part of her wedding trousseau, though Randolph never laid eyes on it. Nor had he ever seen the other delicate garments meant to entice a husband to lust.

Running a hand over the costly, thin material, Regina smiled. She would keep it on, and perhaps she could wear some of the others on the nights David came to visit. After all, she had stepped into a new phase of her life—one in which she experienced all the things she had been deprived of.

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