Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke(34)

Twirling a curl around her finger, she asked in a careless tone, “So it would not bother you if a woman was brought here against her will?”

“Of course I would find it stupid and tedious. But if a courtesan is to be successful, she has to feign enjoyment of stupid and tedious things,” the woman said lightly.

These answers weren’t helpful at all. Portia tried to think of something else to ask, when the butler cleared his throat from the doorway. “The gentlemen will be joining you momentarily—”

A scream came from outside the room, cutting off his words. The butler jumped a foot. It was a screech of terror.

Everyone ran for the door, to see what was going on.

Out in the corridor, the beautiful viscount lay on the carpet. Sadie lifted her two naked, melon-sized breasts off his youthful face. She clutched her bosom with both hands and threw herself back, falling on the floor on her bottom. Wildly, she looked around and her gaze locked on them.

“Oh my heavens, he’s dead!” she cried. “I think . . . I think my bosom killed him!”





8

Moments after Sadie’s panicked cry filled the room, thunder boomed. So loud, it seemed to shake the stone walls of the house. A gust of wind flung open the glass doors of the drawing room. Candles went out.

They were not plunged completely in the dark, but into a shadowy gloom, and one that was quickly split by a second ear-shattering scream that made Portia almost leap out of her slippers.

“I’m going to be hanged for killing him!” shrieked Sadie. She began to run about, rather like a headless chicken, if said fowl was clutching a dress to its bare bosom.

The young woman was stark white, squealing in terror. Even though Sadie held up her bodice, she was crushing her breasts flat, which made most of her bosom stick out the top and the sides and wobble about like aspic jelly.

The men, instead of one stepping forth to act as knight errant, appeared frozen with shock.

No. Portia realized several of the gentlemen were staring at the enormous breasts that jiggled to and fro, up and down. Even the butler, Humphries, stood with his jaw dropped and his salver tilting off his fingers.

But Sinclair was not looking at the breasts. Or at Sadie. He had gone to the eerily still body of the young viscount.

Someone had to take charge of Sadie. No one seemed to care the poor young woman was in a terrified panic. Portia went to her and put her arm around Sadie’s slim shoulders. “You must calm down. And you must stop making this racket. Come with me and sit down.”

Sadie stared at her in confusion. “I can’t! I can’t!”

Saxonby, the duke with the striking silver and black hair, tore his gaze from a barely dressed Sadie. He hurried over to join Sinclair.

To Portia’s surprise, Sinclair dropped on one knee and tore off his leather glove. She expected him to search for a pulse, but it was obviously hopeless. The young man’s eyes were wide open and blank. But Sinclair studied Sandhurst’s face, leaned close to the viscount’s mouth.

Checking for breathing, she assumed.

“He is dead, isn’t he?” Sadie whimpered.

“Yes, he is,” Sinclair said matter-of-factly.

That set Sadie shrieking again. Oh heavens. Portia put her arms around the girl. Suddenly Sadie, bare breasts and all, was plastered against her.

She heard a man making a groaning sound. The white-haired marquis stared at their embrace with bright eyes.

“Really,” Portia said, appalled. She propelled the young courtesan away and hoisted up Sadie’s gown once more, then pressed the girl’s hands to the fabric to keep it up. “Calm yourself. Now come with me. You . . . you need something for shock.”

“But I’ll ’ang, won’t I?” Sadie squealed. “For I killed ’im. Smothering ’im with these!” She slapped her hand over her chest. “I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! But, oh bloomin’ ’eck, ’e’s a viscount. I don’t want to ’ang!”

Sadie’s accent had gotten much rougher in her panic.

Portia put her arm around the girl’s shoulders once more. “It was an accident. And I don’t see how you could have . . . uh, smothered him. Wouldn’t he let you know that he was in distress? Did he try to . . . to free himself from under your bosom? What exactly were you doing to him?”

She’d asked that without thinking.

Sadie looked up. “I were just riding him. He didn’t even know a woman could go on top, the poor sweet thing.”

Oh dear, she really had not wanted to know.

“I doubt he would’ve stopped her,” the old marquis barked. “Once his prick began to do the thinking, the daft lad could’ve died without realizing it.”