She was, in a word, adorable. He found he was unable to maintain his officious mien, and chuckled.
Her lips twitched, then curled. A strangled peep escaped. Then a snort. And then a laugh.
Then they both doubled over and howled with glee as Hamish looked on, a befuddled look on his little face.
When he stomped his foot and growled, “I fail to see what is so amusing,” they collapsed together on the bench, Edward holding his sides and Kaitlin with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“H-Hamish, darling,” she finally sputtered, when she regained some semblance of control. “Did you want something?”
His face puddled up as he thought, and then he remembered. “Yes. Tay is stuck in the tree now. You need to come and help him down.”
“Oh Hamish,” she sighed. “Again? Perhaps you should find a smaller tree.”
The boy grabbed her hand and tugged. “Come along, Kaitlin.”
In the end they all went, and Edward climbed up through the thick branches and found Tay, clinging to a bough, and carried him down. They all traipsed to the house together, but Kaitlin slipped away while Edward was tending to a scraped knee. He watched her disappear with only a tiny flash of regret.
The moment had passed, scuttled by riotous guffaws.
He couldn’t think of a better way to lose an opportunity. There would be other moments. Other opportunities.
She was here beneath his roof.
She was extraordinarily sensuous.
She was not a virgin.
That was all that mattered.
Chapter Four
Mercy.
Kaitlin collapsed on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
What had he done?
It had started as a kiss, a small, meaningless kiss—although she suspected it had never been meaningless—and went so quickly to something else. The duke—Edward—had stroked and plucked and molded her breasts and delight had shot through her. Her sanity had fled.
She’d lost her mind.
Yes.
That was it. She’d lost her mind.
It was the only explanation.
Dougal had kissed her, and many boys before him. She’d never once felt like that.
And then, when Edward had slipped his hand between her legs and fondled her, heavens, it had been wonderful and warm and—wet.
She couldn’t even think on the sensations that had rocked her when he pushed his fingers inside. Even now it made her tremble, made her temperature rise.
Pleasure. Pure, unadulterated, scalding pleasure.
What had he done?
It hadn’t been like that with Dougal. It hadn’t been anything like that with Dougal. Oh, it had been pleasant enough, the kisses, the caresses. But then Dougal had pressed her down in the moss and raised her skirts and pushed himself inside her. The pain had been excruciating; he’d made her bleed.
Fortunately, the torture hadn’t lasted long. A few seconds. Then he’d collapsed on her, wheezing and drooling a little.
It hadn’t lasted long, but it had been enough to ruin her chances at marriage—because then Dougal had gone and shared the news of his conquest with all and sundry.
No, the pleasure had definitely not been worth the cost. She’d made a bad bargain there.
But this—Holy Mother.
This had been worth any cost. And more.
What on earth had he done?
Her encounter with Dougal had left her dreading any further entanglements with men.
Edward left her panting for more.
She was sure there was more. She couldn’t imagine what would have happened if Hamish had not interrupted their tryst.
Well. Perhaps she could.
Oh. What would that have been like? She shuddered.
A thought speared her and she sat bolt upright. She grabbed the book on the nightstand. The book he’d given her.
What kind of book could it be? “Read it when you’re alone,” he’d said. “Think of me,” he’d said.
She tipped the slim volume on its side and read the title. The Instruction by Lord Hedon. An odd title.
She leaned back against the headboard and opened the book and began to read.
It did not take long for her to realize this was no ordinary book.
It was also not for decent eyes. Thank heaven she was a fallen woman—twice now, or nearly so—because the book was stimulating. It was very well written. Amusing and clever and it drew her in. She was well into the first chapter before the penny dropped. And when it did, she couldn’t stop reading. She was mesmerized.
The Instruction was the tale of a young harem girl, Asha, who had been sold to a wealthy sheik. Kaitlin could certainly identify with that plot. The sheik had very particular tastes, the girl was told, and she must be trained to please him.
Kaitlin turned a page and found a plate. Her breath hitched. Oh heavens. It was an illustrated book.
The picture showed Asha standing in a large chamber, surrounded by robed men. She wore only a short jacket that barely covered her breasts and a pair of blowsy pants riding low on her hips. The caption read, Sold!