Page 9 of Surrender to Sin

All at once silence reigned, and he lifted his head to see thirty-one pairs of eyes regarding him with grave disappointment. Like he’d cancelled Christmas, stolen their sweets, and yelled at orphans.

“Enough with the sad pup looks,” he said irritably, the current state of his cock and the thought of long, Grace-less hours until tomorrow morning shortening his temper. “There is no tale to tell.”

“We just want you to be happy, my lord,” said a young maid, with far too much knowledge in her eyes.

“I am happy,” he barked. “I’ll be even happier when a completed order can be delivered to Madame Alice. Besides, there really isn’t anything to tell. I only just met Grace.”

Fuck.

Throwing his pen aside, Sin let a fierce glare roam the meeting room. Thirty-one faces beamed back at him.

“Lady Carrington is a widow in a very complicated situation. I am assisting her, and in a fortnight’s time the matter will be resolved and we’ll part on amicable terms forever. That is all. Now, let’s settle this order. Last name down will be running about after Prinny and his current favorites for the rest of the week.”

A near stampede of women descended on his desk, and he almost smiled. Almost.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking about Grace. Her mischievous wit and curiosity. The heady combination of rose-scented soap and aroused woman. Her gasps and moans and cries when he’d kissed and played with her.

Sin gritted his teeth and shifted uncomfortably in the high-backed chair. Steel rod had nothing on his cock at the moment. All the day needed now was Devil and Vice to stroll into the room, all arched eyebrows and mocking grins, to repeat their appalling quips about the joys of oiling rusty, shrieking Gates, and his brain might actually explode.

What the hell was everyone’s problem, anyway?

It wasn’t like entertaining a widow was a novelty. Fallen had long ago established a reputation as a sanctuary for any age and gender. Perhaps no women as innocent as Grace, or with her strict background, and maybe he rarely allowed others into his private parlor, but that was by the by. He could do whatever the fuck he liked. Always had. Always would. As he’d said to the maids, he was merely assisting a lady in need.

Nothing more.

Chapter Three

“Must say, Lady C, it will be a happy day when I don’t have to dress you in plain gray or lavender anymore. Fine for the ladies who truly miss their husbands, but there isn’t a soul in London who is sorry old Carrington passed. Especially not his heir.”

Grace smiled grimly in the mirror at Nell. “I thought that, too, but yesterday afternoon’s visit to the milliner…all that color and trim and those high-necked, long sleeved sketches made me feel quite ill. For if my plan fails, I am soon to be a wife again.”

“Bah,” spat Nell, as she styled Grace’s hair into a neat chignon. “I still think you should ask Sin to drag the puffed up old boot to those haunted lands down Dartmoor way and leave him for the wildlife. It would be a sour, bony offering, but—”

“Better the wildlife nibble Lord Baxter than me?”

“Exactly. Then you could wed Sin and spend your days nibbling that fine figure of a man instead.”

Even the thought made her entire body heat. She’d felt Sin’s trouser-covered erection between her legs, but what might it be like to hold his naked length in her hands? To taste and explore every inch of that big, hard body with her lips and tongue and make him come?

“No,” she said very regretfully. “Our nibbling is strictly on a friendship basis. He made it very clear he is not the marrying kind.”

“But not at all averse to kissing you senseless? Your lips must have wondered what on earth was going on.”

Grace nodded ruefully. “Sadly true. I was dreadful to start, peck, peck like a little bird. But then…oh my. He still believes I would benefit from more practice, though, and we got interrupted discussing the plan, so that is why I’m going back today.”

“Well, just mind that he doesn’t spend inside you until I’ve found some of those sponges to soak in brandy. Now is not the time for a pregnancy.”

“Nell!” she spluttered. “It is only kissing!”

Her maid snorted. “So that was the only thing that happened? He didn’t touch you anywhere other than your face? Ha. Your ruby cheeks confess. And I think you should absolutely indulge should the opportunity arise…so to speak. No one need know.”

Words of denial sprung to her lips and then faltered. “I thought about him all night. What I might do or say if it became more than kissing. And…I want to. I want this for myself, and have for the longest time.”

“Of course you do,” said Nell. “It’s Sebastian bloody St. John. You know, if I were twenty years younger and had unlimited funds, I’d buy the pirate fantasy room at Fallen with a sign outside that said ‘Dear Sin, enter and plunder at will.’ Promise me you’ll go in there one day, my lady. If I must live vicariously through you, I expect details to make my slippers melt.”

Grace laughed. “A pirate fantasy room? Oh, come on, that is surely a Banbury Tale.”

“My brother says it is true. Apparently he was at a soiree and overheard another group discussing it, he gave them quite the lecture on immorality. It drives the ton barmy how secret the membership list is kept, but every so often details about the club’s activities escape, and it sends the city into a frenzy. Actually, if Prinny is a patron, it’s no doubt him who leaks like a rusty bucket.”