Page 36 of His Revelation
I had no idea that had a name.
Allof them had names.
This seemed exactly the sort of thing that Lady Athena would be delighted to own, and as soon as she could wrench her gaze away from the illustration, Tiffany would begin negotiations.
However, dimly, she was aware of the woman explaining to Lunzie that she wasn’t allowed to sell it to him, that they’d have to return in the morning when her brother was there. Lunzie didn’t argue, but slipped Tiffany’s arm through his, thanked the woman, and pulled Tiffany unprotestingly from the store.
Vaguely, she was aware that she should have been more polite to Mr. Ferguson’s daughter, saying her goodbyes. But it seemed that Tiffany could only just focus on the throbbing urgency in her core.
Walking was the most delicious torture, as her thighs rubbed together…
“Tiffany.”
Lunzie’s tone broke through her trance. She shook her head and managed a, “Mmm?”
“Ye want that book?”
She cleared her throat. “Um. Yes. Yes, I think that would be…a nice thing…to own.”
“Then we’ll return tomorrow morning.” They’d reached the hotel, and despite her earlier teasing, she was grateful for the way Lunzie took charge and marched her up the stairs to the rooms they’d been assigned. “For now, I’ll arrange a meal in yer room.”
As if she could eat when she felt like this? “Thank you.” Tiffany had every intention of throwing up her gown and trying the method ofChurning Butterthe book had illustrated. Anything to quell this aching need!
Lunzie marched her right up to the small room she’d secured for herself, inside…and then shut the door behind them. Tiffanyshook herself, trying to drag her attention back to the here and now and ignore the aching between her thighs.
“Are you—why are you…?”
Lunzie was staring at her with an intensity that did nothing to calm her desires. In fact, the way he lowered his chin and moved closer had Tiffany’s breathing going all shallow, then stopping entirely when her back hit the door. “Ga—Lunzie?”
“That’s no’ my name.”
Right. What…? “Laird?—”
His palm slammed against the oak of the door, startling Tiffany into wide-eyed silence. He was looking at her like a starving man, making promises with his gaze.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her palms flat against the door as he bent closer.
“Ye promised me a kiss, Tiffany.”
“I—I told you, I cannot kiss you. My reputation.” Her voice was too squeaky to be believed. Shewantedto kiss him, wanted it desperately, with the way she was feeling. Why was she fighting it?
His head bent toward hers, until his lips were near her temple. “I dinnae need to kiss ye on yer lips, love.” His free hand rose, his fingertips tracing her lips. When she shuddered, he hummed. “I could kiss ye wherever ye like.”
When he dragged his touch down her throat, Tiffany found herself whimpering and tipping her head back.
“Aye, that’s it, lass,” he crooned, his fingertips moving over her gown. “Anywhere.Everywhere.”
His breath was warm against her ear, and Tiffany realized she’d squeezed her eyes shut.Better to feel him.
Lunzie’s fingers brushed over her breasts, and she swayed forward, then back again, desperate for him to caress her, tofeelher. As if he could hear her thoughts, his hand rested on one breast, and even through her layers and her corset, Tiffany swore his touch branded her.
And then he squeezed.
“Yes!” she whimpered.
“Good lass.” His nose nuzzled her cheek as his lips found the skin beneath her ear. He didn’t kiss her, but continued to speak—tastingher, almost—as he caressed her. “I can feel yer nipple. It’s hard and aching for me.”
She felt him flex toward her from where he stood at her side, and somethinghard and achingbrushed against her hip. Even before readingA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts,she’d known what that was.
