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

trouble in this world,” Fanny opined.
    Lillian tilted her head. “When he is resting and all, well, it does not look so daunting.”
    “Daunting? Dear Lord, Lillian. I’m coming to believe this is an act of charity, me exposing you to a man other than Dillon. I love him dearly, mind you, but the man clearly is not a good influence on you. That, right there, is heaven’s perfect tool of pleasure, and a mighty well formed one at that.”
    “Look at those thighs,” Lillian murmured, raising her hand to her lips. The thighs were brushed with a delicate cover of dark fuzz on sea-foam white skin. “Each one around is as big as my waist.”
    “Go ahead,” Fanny encouraged, stepping aside. “Touch him. He will not wake.”
    That navel just begged to be stroked. She felt the yearning deep in her middle, like a ticklish hunger that could never be satisfied with food.
    “He will not wake?”
    “Go ahead, Lillian.”
    Swallowing, she tentatively stretched out her hand. Her fingertips swept across the gentle slope of his rib cage. “Like a baby’s bottom…” she marveled, her heart charging with excitement. She explored that delicious dip in his navel, then raked her fingers through the crisp black hair. A ticklish heat swamped her, and she felt the unholy desire to press her mouth to that very abdomen and taste him. She licked her parted lips. “He is beautiful….”
    “His face is not bad either.”
    His angular features had softened; the hard lines coalesced into a smooth, handsome visage. The worry had eased from his broad brow, his lids were closed, and his mouth was slightly open in repose.
    Leaning over, she traced a fingertip along that sumptuous bottom lip. It was velvety soft. His warm breath enveloped her finger.
    He groaned.
    She jumped, clutching her friend.
    Fanny grasped her hand. “Do not fret. He is tightly bound.”
    They watched him with baited breath. He did not move or make another sound.
    Lillian struggled free of Fanny’s hold. “This is depraved, Fanny. We are fondling an unconscious man.”
    “Yes, it is a bit wicked, isn’t it?” She grinned unabashedly. “I have not had this much fun in years.”
    “Fanny!”
    “Must you sour all my grapes?” Fanny moaned. “It feels like ages since I’ve had a good tumble, and this is amazing inspiration.”
    “Even if he is not awake, we must respect his dignity. It’s only proper.”
    “There’s nothing proper about what we’re doing tonight, Lillian. So get that idea right out of your head.”
    Despite her better intentions, Lillian spared another look at that poetic convergence of man and muscle. “Don’t you think he’s cold?”
    “Stanley stoked the fire. Besides, when Mr. Redford gets you in his sights, he’ll be hotter than burned bisque.”
    “Dear Lord, the servants must know! What must Mr. Stanley think?”
    “Don’t you mind about Stanley or anyone else. You just worry about Redford here.” Fanny sashayed to the door.
    “You can’t just leave me here!” Lillian cried, suddenly panicking.
    “I have done everything in my power to get you to this point, dear. Now it’s time for you to do your part.”
    “But Fanny! I can’t do it if he’s unconscious. It defeats the whole purpose.”
    “He should wake in an hour or two.”
    “But…but…what do I do until then?”
    “Whatever you wish,” Fanny cooed, slamming the door closed behind her.
    The key turned in the lock with a deafening click.

Chapter 7
    T he scent of hearth spices beckoned Nick to consciousness, and he became aware of soft down beneath him. A fire was nearby; he could feel its wafting warmth. He exhaled a shuddering sigh of relief. He had had a nightmare, of that much he was sure, but the specifics eluded him. He could only recall trying to struggle with some unknown fiend, but his arms would not function.
    A sense of impotence stained his consciousness. He swallowed, and, surprisingly, that tang of fear seemed to still lace his tongue,