Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 01] by One Wicked Night

unfaithful wife, and a second time for killing her lover. Hence he ‘burned his wine’ twice and put it in the far corner of the cellar. Whereupon he promptly forgot about it.”
    He seemed to be looking at her from down a long tunnel, and she was a blur of green gown, pale skin and flaming hair. “What…is…” His mouth was not working properly. “Wrong…with…me?”
    “Finding it years later,” she continued as if he had not spoken, “he must have felt a bit better, or worse, about his destiny because he decided to imbibe. And acidic, poor wine was reborn as Cognac.”
    The room spiraled around him in sickening green waves, and he fell back into the chair with a thump.
    “The story is completely false,” she stated in devilish tones, leaning forward and bracing herself on the arms of his chair. The scent of roses enveloped him, making his stomach lurch.
    “The drink…” he slurred.
    Her face swam before his eyes; the skin ghost white, cat green eyes, devil-red curls and scarlet lips formed in a smirk. “We know that Cognac was born by accident. An offshoot of economies of trade. But the myth is much more affecting.”
    “I’ll see…you…in hell…for this,” he whispered, barely able to keep his eyes open.
    “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
    All went black.
     
    “Fanny, what have you done?” Lillian cried from the doorway.
    Her friend stood over the canopied bed where Redford lay stretched out on his back, his sleek, bare skin glistening in the candlelight.
    “What?” Fanny turned. “Oh, get that horrorstruck look off your face. He will be fine. The alchemist said that he might have a bit of a headache, but he will be fit as a fiddle all the same.”
    “And you trust this?” Lillian shrieked.
    “Look at him, he’s breathing soundly and shows no ill effects from the tonic.”
    “You could have killed him!”
    “Piffle.”
    Her friend’s confidence reassured her, and Lillian’s feet edged forward. She was afraid but too fascinated not to look. Her breath caught; the man was a masterpiece of smooth, pale skin rippling over fluid brawn. His head rested to one side, spreading his collar-length glossy black mane over his shoulder. His arms bulged in repose over his head, held there with colorful silken cords tied from wrists to bedposts. This position opened his chest like a fan of undulating muscle.
    “Oh, my,” she breathed, spellbound by the dipping hollow of his navel. Heady warmth washed over her, and more than anything she longed to graze her hand across the sprinkling of black fuzz that ended abruptly at the silken white sheet at his waist.
    “He is a beauty among men, isn’t he?” Fanny marveled.
    Lillian swallowed. “You would know better than me.”
    Setting hand to hip, Fanny grinned. “That’s true. And I must say, he’s as well favored as any man I’vehad the good fortune to bed in the last few years.”
    “Look at those scars.” Lillian pointed to the slashes of white on the moon-pale skin of his chest and arms. “I wonder what happened to him.”
    “The man was an orphan; it could not have been easy.”
    Something inside Lillian tightened at seeing Nick Redford so vulnerable. He was not a fantasy but a flesh-and-blood man with history, feelings and hurts. “Fanny, this is not right—”
    “Now for the prize,” Fanny declared. Reaching forward, she lifted the sheet.
    Lillian grabbed her hand. “Fanny!”
    “This is a golden opportunity. You might as well enjoy the view.”
    “It just doesn’t seem right.”
    “And drugging him was? Besides, where’s the harm, the man is out cold.”
    Guilt clashed with fascination inside Lillian. Where was the harm at this point? She was going to hell anyway, she might as well glance a peek. Slowly, she released her friend’s hand.
    Lowering the sheet, Fanny beamed. “Oh, my .”
    Lillian straightened.
    “Pretty astounding that those parts cause so much