“I can find that out. You can trust me to find information for you.”
His suspicious nature, honed by years of hell, wondered if she needed to be downstairs to contact a conspirator.
No, this was Portia. Innocent to the core. What was wrong with him?
His childhood had poisoned him. Made him suspect rot and evil everywhere.
Just as he was considering that, she said, “I don’t know that I can trust you. How do I really know you are not involved?”
“If I really had you kidnapped for nefarious purposes, don’t you think I’d be having my wicked way with you by now?”
“There is no need to take offense at my doubt,” she said firmly. “After all, you brought it upon yourself.”
He groaned. “Yes, I know this. Let me make amends then.”
She studied her masked face in the mirror. “No one will recognize me, will they?” she asked. “So there’s no danger.”
“There is a hell of a lot of danger.”
“Of what sort?”
“You’re trying to flush out a kidnapper. Dangerous by definition. And the danger that men will take one look at you in that gown and want you.”
Her lips parted. Her mouth alone—Christ, it was gorgeous. There were men who would sell their souls to kiss those lips. Having her eyes and cheeks masked made her lips all the more erotic.
“I can avoid such men.”
He rolled his eyes. “You can’t.”
“But if I went downstairs, would you—protect me?”
“With my life.”
Her chest rose with her sharp breath. Her neckline was cut so low, her breasts lifted, wobbled, and almost bounced up over the neckline. His sharp eyes detected the dark pink hue of her nipples, barely covered by the lace of the gown. He had to grit his teeth as the desire to taste those nipples hit him. “But since I’d like to keep my life, I need you to stay up here. Locked in this room.”
“But I want to go!” she cried.
Sin blinked. “You want to go?”
Below her mask, he could see her cheeks turning bright pink.
“Why is that such a surprise to you?” she exclaimed. “This is what tempted you away from me. I’ve always—I’ve always wanted to know. I want to just see . . . what it’s like. I’m just . . . curious.”
She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d suddenly hit him in the face with a shovel.
“You’re curious,” he repeated slowly.
Hell, he’d never dreamed of that. Portia had always been so good. She was as far from his dark, tormented world as he could imagine.
And she was curious about an orgy?
His cock responded. His brain said: Look, this beautiful, tempting woman wants to know all about wicked sex. At the same instant, his prick stood proud, saluted, and was ready to offer its services. Blood raced down so fast it physically hurt as his cock bolted into hardness.
Sin drank in the sight of Portia in front of her mirror. The bodice of her fashionable dress cradled her breasts, lifting them high. The fabric skimmed her rounded hips and fell in a sweep of glimmer along her legs.
He wanted to take the dress off her. Reveal every inch of her soft ivory skin. Kiss her everywhere.
He’d seen hundreds of women naked. Given the size of his orgies, possibly thousands. But he’d never seen Portia naked.
He was just seeing Portia’s bare neck and a little bit of naked shoulder.
And he was on fire.
She squared her shoulders and stared him in the eye. “I wanted to know what was so fascinating about them. What made you want them so much.”
Sin couldn’t resist. He bent and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. She tasted fresh and clean. Like lavender and a sweet English spring. “God,” he muttered. “I made a hell of a mistake. I should have married you and dedicated my life to giving you pleasure.”
She froze.
He nuzzled her neck, just behind her ear.
She whimpered.
His cock throbbed and he could barely think. One delicious fuck and she would be his forever—
She pulled away from him. “No! You wouldn’t have done that. You would have preferred to go to brothels and had your naughty parties. I wouldn’t have kept you interested.”
“Yes, you would.”
She shook her head fiercely. “It’s too late. Too wretchedly late.”
She started for the door.
“Before you go storming away, Portia, you need to read this.” Sin drew the sealed note addressed to her out of the pocket of his waistcoat and handed it to her. “I was given a note by the butler, from our host, Lord Genvere. Enclosed in mine was this note, addressed to you.”
“I don’t know Lord Genvere. . . .” She tore it open. “Goodness, what is this? It makes no sense at all. “It says: ‘I know all your sins—’ ”