Her Master's Touch by Patricia Watters Page B

she
had no idea when she’d been the one to touch and tag. It was so
pleasantly warm, so deliciously refreshing, so wildly exciting.
She’d never dreamed kissing a man could be like this. But oh, how
she didn’t want it to stop...
    And it didn’t. He seemed as excited with
their oral sparring as she, their tongues touching and thrusting
and lunging like two fencers in a duel, then twisting and curling
together like playful pups, until her nerves were humming and
satisfied purrs reverberated in her throat. It was beyond reason to
analyze why she was kissing Lord Ravencroft like her life depended
on it, when she should be keeping her distance and searching his
house for the opal. But all her best intentions seemed to have
abandoned her, along with her rationale for keeping her distance
from the man whose arms felt so comfortable around her. But she’d
never felt a man’s arms around her before. Not like this...
    She had no idea when she'd clamped her legs
around his hips and tightened her arms around his neck, clinging to
him like a monkey, or when he'd carried her behind the bamboo
screen and pressed her back up against the wall. All she knew was
it felt good to be crushed against him, not like at the horse fair
when she’d felt the full length of him on top of the full length of
her, but a different kind of closeness, the kind that made her want
to strip off her clothes, and his, if only to find out what
happened next.
    While she pondered that, he cupped her
buttocks and she felt something hard moving slowly and rhythmically
against her privates. It was some moments before she realizes
exactly what it was. But the sensation his slow, direct actions
brought was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, gradually
building to something just out of reach, something evasive that she
desperately wanted. Tightening her legs around him, she met his
rhythmic thrusts until her body gave a shudder, and wave after wave
of glorious sensation rippled through her. For a few moments she
stayed wrapped around him while trying to process what happened.
Then her eyes popped open, and she saw him smiling.
    "You have to admit, this arrangement leaves
something to be desired," he said.
    Abruptly, she pushed out of his arms and
dropped her feet to the floor. "I don’t know what you're talking
about," she said, backing away. Embarrassed and humiliated at what
she'd allowed him to do, and stunned by her bizarre response, she
darted from behind the screen. And froze.
    Mrs. Throckmorton stood in the hallway, eyes
a pair of baneful slits.
    Saying nothing, Eliza scurried past her and
down the hallway as fast as her feet could carry her. But when she
reached the stairway leading to her bed chamber, Mrs. Throckmorton
caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, Mrs. Throckmorton yanked
Eliza around, and said, "Filthy girl! Whoring with his lordship!
And on Sunday no less!"
    Eliza's hand came up to gather the lapels of
her dress. "I was not doing what you said,' she explained. "I was
disposing of mice remains. It's what Lord Ravencroft asked me to
do."
    " Lies!" Mrs. Throckmorton slapped
Eliza's face. "I heard the moans and cries coming from behind that
screen. And look at you with your dress unfastened to tempt his
lordship. You are a filthy, despicable girl. At least Alice didn't
try to rise above her station. She did her whoring with a stable
boy. But you covet whoring with his lordship. Well, you'll not be
tarrying in his bedchamber again. From now on you'll work in the
wash house. Perhaps then you'll shed your high-flown ways and no
longer have lustful designs on his lordship."
    Eliza had no one to blame but herself. If
she'd had any sense, she would have left Lord Ravencroft's
bedchamber the instant he entered. But because of her folly, she’d
no longer have access to the house during the day, which meant
prowling about at night.
    Unless she could placate Mrs. Throckmorton.
"I am ashamed," she said in a plaintive voice, "but I assure you,
it will not