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“HAVE YOU NO RESTRAINT, woman?” Alastair returned, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. His erection had already stretched when he saw those lovely lips encasing the large dildo.

She lifted her chin and spoke as if she had proposed nothing more than a game of whist. “I thought it was convenient, as I was here, you are here, and there is this room.... It is much more expedient than traveling to Château Follet.”

He thought of the Viscount Devon. Once again his cousin had him against a wall, inspiring within him both resentment and awe.

“Millie,” he warned.

“What do you care if you encourage my prurience?”

She had challenged him on this before, and he could provide no truly satisfactory response.

“As you are not being reasonable,” he replied, “I am obliged to take that role.”

“Reasonable? Is offering four thousand pounds for a dowry to a poor relation reasonable?”

“That has nothing to do with here and now.”

“You are an odd one, Alastair. I think I liked you better when you were trying not to be reasonable. Your attempts to be good are rather trying.”

He could not resist smiling.

“In truth,” she contemplated, “it matters not what you do. Whether you encourage me or not, these wicked desires persist inside me. If I am to be shackled by matrimony in the near future, I will indulge my prurience while I can. I asked for your assistance, but if you will not provide it, I will find other ways to address my needs.”

He did not doubt that she would.

“Very well, I shall grant this request of yours, and it shall be the last request I ever grant you. On one condition: you promise never to return to Château Follet.”

In silence, she weighed his proposition before saying, “I want an experience as fulfilling as that which would occur at Château Follet. You will answer every curiosity of mine, indulge every whim, attend to every desire?”

He groaned as heat churned in his loins. “If you behave yourself.”

“I will. I promise.”

Blood surged through his cock. There was no turning back now, no matter how strongly his mind might be bent against it. “You will do my every bidding. I shall dictate the particulars. Your role is to submit to my handling. If you contravene me or defy me at any instant, my end of the arrangement may be forfeited.”

She nodded before reaching for the nipple adornments.

He closed his hand before she could take them. “I want your word on Château Follet.”

“I promise not to return to Château Follet. May I try the earrings—jewelry?”

A series of curses ran through his head, but he opened his hand. She took the sapphires.

He pushed aside the lapels of her robe and loosened the strings of her shift. With a crooked finger, he tugged the décolletage down. Her bosom rose as she inhaled. His knuckle brushed against the softness of her breast as he drew the shift down toward her nipple. The rosebud was already taut with anticipation. He nudged it before trapping it between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled gently. Her back arched subtly, sending her bosom closer to him. He rolled and flicked the nipple, slowly, teasingly, till her breath grew shorter. He pinched the nub, harder and harder, till she yelped. He released it and repeated the treatment on her other nipple. He pinched and twisted this one. She squirmed, not from pain, but from her arousal.

“May I try these now?”

“Not yet.” He needed to ensure that her level of arousal was high enough for her to tolerate the discomfort of the clasps. He loosened the sash of her robe and cupped her mons. She gasped in surprise.

“Are you wet?”

“A little, I think.”

His hand nestled farther between her thighs. Her dampness began to seep through the fabric to his fingers. She was more than a little wet. He rubbed her shift into her, making her moan. He watched as her lashes fluttered, her breath became uneven, and her mouth remained open, inviting him to kiss her, to force his tongue down into that lovely orifice.

She closed her eyes as he intensified his fondling. His fingers pressed the damp undergarment into her folds, grazing her clitoris. Her every reaction called to the primal in him, from the breaths that filled his ears to the scent of her arousal wafting through his nose.

She gave a small yelp, then giggled.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It is but a slight pinching sensation.”

He took her left hand and placed it between her legs. “Stroke yourself.”

While she complied, he released her other hand from him and pulled the right side of her robe down her shoulder. The right side of the shift followed, baring the breast now adorned with the sapphire droplet. He stepped back to admire the jewelry dangling from her nipple and had to adjust his crotch. Should he allow her to spend, the more magnanimous part of him wondered?

No. She had not made it easy for him, and he would return the favor. She needed to appreciate the challenges present at Château Follet. The Viscount Devon would have shown her no mercy, and Alastair intended to cast away any chance that she might reconsider her promise to him.

For several minutes he watched her pleasure herself. “Do you wish to spend?”

She nodded. “Please, my lord.”

“We should apply the mate.”

He slid the left side of her robe off her shoulder, then pulled down the strap of the shift. He eyed her left breast in appreciation of its shape and paleness of skin. He cradled the orb, relishing the weight, the suppleness in his palm, and brushed his thumb over the already erect nipple. She shuddered. He kneaded the flesh, gently at first before manhandling it. She purred her preference. He tugged the nipple to ensure it was at its peak before applying the jewelry.

Her garments, which had fallen about her hips, slid to the floor. She shivered. Though it was a warmer autumn than in past years, the night air was still cool. A fire had not been lit in the room for many years. Her body would warm soon enough and be distracted by other more urgent sensations.

To cultivate her own heat, he cupped her head in both hands and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed tenderly, teasing her, for she seemed to prefer a harder application of roughness. His tongue grazed her lips, and though she parted them, he did not dwell inside her mouth, taking light mouthfuls of the surface instead. A small whine grumbled low in her throat.

Relenting, to his own ardor as much as hers, he opened her mouth with his and pushed his tongue between her welcoming lips. He heard her sigh before he muffled her breaths. He probed the hot and wet orifice, crushing her lips so she grunted. Rather than yield, she met the assault upon her, her tongue licking at his as she shoved her mouth to him.

Her fervor took him by surprise. Perhaps time, and the suppression of her lust through it, had intensified her desires. Or perhaps it was the jewelry at her nipples that induced the need to release pressure or attention elsewhere. But he liked her passion, liked the dueling of their tongues and the forceful meeting of their mouths. He had a mind to lift her, spear himself into her then and there, but he had developed more patience during his time at Château Follet. He knew the benefits of delaying gratification.

He released her and stepped back to view her naked body. Her hair was tied in a plait behind her. Every part of her was exposed. He took her hand and replaced it at her mound. “Touch yourself again.”

In silence, he watched her stroke herself for several minutes.

“Do you pleasure yourself at home?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“It varies, my lord, but, on average, four or five times a week.”

Surprised at the frequency, he said, “You are quite the little wanton, Millie.”

She blushed. “How often do others of my sex pleasure themselves?”

“In truth, there are some, even those who have been guests at Château Follet, who do not engage in self-pleasure.”

“That is sad, my lord, for though it does not afford me the satisfaction of congress, it is better than naught.”

“You prefer to have cock?”

Her blush deepened. “I do, my lord.”

His erection throbbed at her candor.

“May I ask a question, my lord?”

“You may.”

“Will you take me now?”

All tension collapsed into the area of his groin. He thought his cock might burst through his pants. He took several deep breaths and would have remained silent had she not opened her eyes and looked at him. Of course he would have liked nothing better than to take possession of her, but she had asked for an experience comparable to one at the Château Follet. There were many experiences to be had there, and they were not all as accommodating as that which he had first provided her.

But she had made the promise he wanted to hear. And perhaps, if he satisfied her curiosity, the appeal of Château Follet may be diminished. It meant he would stay at Edenmoor longer than intended, but he found the prospect not quite as dreadful as expected.