Read Online One Night of Sin by Gaelen Foley - Free Book Online Page A

stomach?” he exclaimed.
    She turned red, mortified. “I—I think it was the thunder.”
    “Becky, sweet,” he chided with a pained wince. “You’re starving, aren’t you?”
    She bit her lip for a second, then nodded ashamedly. “I haven’t had anything to eat since last night.”
    “You should have said something!”
    “I don’t wish to be any trouble.”
    “Nonsense, you couldn’t be any trouble if you tried.” He shook his head at her, then opened the door to his chambers. “Now, then, what am I going to feed you?” he mused aloud as he led her inside unceremoniously, tossing the key and the other contents of his waistcoat onto a thin-legged Sheraton table by the wall. “I shall send out to Watier’s. We’ll order a feast.”
    “Honestly, I’m not that picky.” She walked in cautiously behind him.
    “Well, I am. Welcome.”
    Their echoing footsteps suggested the spacious dimensions of the hall even before he lit a fine beeswax candle. The flames rose one by one atop the silver candelabra on the table, rolling back the darkness to show her the elegant space he called home.
    Goodness, she thought. He claimed he wasn’t rich?
    There were gleaming white plaster cornices, a fireplace with a veined marble chimneypiece, and a huge bay window. The crimson walls contained exquisite paintings that hung on little chains from the brass picture rail beneath the gilded frieze. The man had very fine taste, she thought, rather awed. The sophistication of his home made her feel like an utter hayseed.
    Small jeweled objets d’art adorned the mantelpiece, but she gasped at the sight of two painted Grecian urns on display inside a pair of recessed statuary alcoves.
    “Are those real?” she blurted out in amazement, the rude question popping out before she could stop it. “Sorry.” She covered her lips belatedly with her fingertips.
    He smiled blandly. “Athens, fifth century B.C. ”
    “Good heavens,” she breathed.
Don’t touch anything.
She tucked her hands into the pockets of her damp pelisse and stared all around her. The chaise in striped satin looked wonderfully inviting, but she dared not sit down on the furniture in her wet, dirty clothes.
    “Make yourself at home, my dear.” He went striding across the glossy parquet floor. “Sitting room through the French doors there.” He pointed to a pair of closed double doors on the other side of the room, then opened a door on the left. “Bedroom’s here. Follow me.”
    Her eyes widened as he disappeared inside. Lord, he wasn’t wasting any time! He had promised not to rush her—
    “Becky, come here, pet.”
    She sidled over to the threshold of his bedchamber and peeked inside, a dozen nervous excuses on the tip of her tongue, but he quickly beckoned to her from a smaller room attached to the far wall of his sprawling bedchamber.
    “Come into the dressing room. I think you will appreciate this.”
    “But—”
    “Hurry. I have a little treat for you.”
    “What kind of treat?” Her heart pounded, but she was too intrigued to refuse. She tiptoed through his bedchamber, then stopped and stared in amazement at his towering domed bed. It nearly filled its arched, curtained alcove, only leaving enough room for several candle stands.
    Elevated on a carpeted plinth, its plumed crown ringed with roses and winged cherubs nearly touched the ceiling; a profusion of sumptuous draperies flowed down from the dome to swathe the headboard in velvet opulence. The foot of the bed was curved inward like a rounded couch, with wooden bed-steps at the center of the sinuous contour. Large, gilded mirrors on both walls of the alcove reflected the gold and scarlet expanse of the kingly mattress.
    No, one could not call that thing a bed, she thought with a gulp. It was an altar, a shrine to the mysteries of Eros.
Oh, Lord, what in heaven am I doing?
    Suddenly, from the dressing room, she heard a creaking noise followed by the steady splashing sound of pouring