Chapter Four
Feeling like a wet horse, Molly followed the Marquess. Her limp hair hung around her face while her bare feet padded up the slippery marble steps to the manor. Devlin led her through a side door, and her hopes of avoiding the other guests shattered.
Every muscle in her body froze when she stared across the crowded Roman-style ballroom. An orchestra garbed in black cloaks played music that sounded sweet and melodious. In stark contrast to the harmonious song, everyone wore strange, grotesque masks with brightly colored costumes. Others hardly wore much at all, proudly exposing their bodies, except their faces. Entranced by the sights, Molly absently walked through the crowd.
A loud cackle pierced through the music. Standing in a small circle of people, a heavy woman wore a horse mask. A tan leather gown wrapped her body like a glove. With a riding crop and a glass of sherry in one hand, she shoved the head of a short, bald man into her chest, rubbing his face into her ample bosom.
A naked muscular man wearing a white wig, a black mask and red stain on his lips sidled up behind the woman and pushed the short man away. In a commanding manner he bent the lady over and raised her gown to reveal a plump, creamy backside. He smacked her buttocks, and her glass shattered on the floor, spilling red liquid. Unconcerned, the man grabbed her hips and thrust his engorged member into her. She threw her head back and neighed like a horse.
Molly’s cheeks burned while she stared with keen interest. The burly man plunged harder and harder into the woman. A line of sweat etched its way down between his chiseled shoulder blades, his ass cheeks tense with each powerful thrust. Molly licked her lips. Her nipples tingled beneath the damp cloth while her skin prickled with arousal.
A squeal came from above her. Molly gazed up to see a mature lady, her brown curly hair swaying over the edge of a floating platform. Suspended by ropes from the high ceiling, two servants on either side of the ballroom swung the platform back and forth through the air. Behind the lady, the red face of a bald man peaked over the rim as he rammed vigorously into her.
The orchestra played another song and couples moved sensually upon the ballroom floor. Molly stood on tiptoes over the crowd to watch their erotic dance. The gentlemen brushed their hands across the breasts of their naked partners before twirling them onto the next man. The ladies clasped their hands around their partners’ erections, teasing them with a slow dance of seduction.
On the chairs around the ballroom, many were openly making love. Men sat on the seats, their breeches undone while ladies bounced up and down on their laps, their gowns and petticoats fanning around them in a display of satin, velvet and lace.
Molly stood in one spot, twirling around to see, hear, and smell all the exquisite delights of the ballroom. Her face flushed with excitement; she wanted to join the wickedly sinful guests and try all the different positions they displayed.
Fingernails lightly scrapped the back of her neck, sending ticklish bumps down her arms. Molly turned to find a woman staring at her through a white, sequined mask with ivory feathers. With shiny ebony hair swept up into a chignon, she wore a creamy transparent gown that revealed her voluptuous curves. Her perfectly rounded breasts pushed against the thin fabric. She circled Molly, smiling as if she were a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
“What a little sweeting you are,” she purred, her voice low and thick. Her finger caught hold of the towel clutched at Molly’s chest. Tugging on the cloth, the lady studied Molly’s breasts. “Hmm, they look delicious,” she said, “May I have a taste?”
Astonishment caused the words to wedge in Molly’s mouth. Before she could answer, Devlin’s dark presence appeared at her side.
“This one is not ready, Lady Parnell,” he announced. His broad chest touched her back, the heat granting her a strange comfort.
Pouting with disappointment, the lady placed a light kiss on Molly’s lips. “Then perhaps later, my sweeting.”
Devlin’s fingers wrapped around Molly’s bare arm. Gently but firmly, he led her across the ballroom. “If you are of that persuasion, Lady Parnell is most generous with her courtesans.” He pushed his way through the curious crowd. “But she is easily bored and will throw you onto the streets when she is no longer pleased.”
Devlin glanced at Molly and she nodded, her wide eyes were one of inexperience and disbelief. He chuckled to himself at her expression then sobered upon hearing whispers as they passed onlookers. The vultures were eager to sink their teeth into the new flesh at his side. Well, let them hunger. He wasn’t about to introduce his novice until he was ready.
He escorted Molly up one of the wide staircases. The enticing aroma of lilac soap on her skin assailed his senses. She clutched the cloth to her chest, contorting the top of her breasts upwards. He peeked from the corner of his eyes to the V of her cleavage. Stifling a groan, he continued in a brisk walk to the Lily Room across from his. It had better access if he had need of her in the middle of the night. Moreover, he wanted to keep a close eye on her comings and goings.
Molly brushed past him when he opened the door. Lit with countless tall candles, fresh flowers adorned every surface, giving the white room a romantic appeal. Devlin made a mental note to thank Yvette for the extra touches. He entered with his hands tucked behind his back. He always liked this room. A grand four-post bed with sheer lily fabric hanging over the posts dominated the space. A painting of exotic nymphs making love adorned the wall while in a corner sat a mahogany wardrobe carved with naked women riding horses. This room was tactile and comfortable—one of his favorites.
Molly strolled to the red velvet, lyre chair that matched a regal mahogany table. She glided her hand across the smooth wood. “Sheraton?”
Caught off guard, he asked, “How does a farmer know the furniture of Thomas Sheraton?”
“My aunt told me your father commissioned him when they were—”
“What else did your aunt tell you?”
She peered at him over her shoulder, “Not much else.”
He leaned against the wall with his legs crossed, his hand rubbing his chin.
Her eyes averted. She was lying.
“You will fit right in here as a courtesan,” he said with sarcasm.
She smiled, obviously misunderstanding his remark.
Molly returned her attention to the table where brushes, combs, powders, and perfumes lined the surface. She picked up a pink bottle and smelled the fragrance. Her nose twitched and wrinkled. Molly swiftly replaced the lid. He smothered a smile. Does she have any idea how adorable she looked?
With grace and awe, Molly’s hands ran over the items on the table. What would it feel like to have those same hands run over his body? Exploring, caressing. The growing ache in his breeches caused him to shift uncomfortably. He pushed away from the wall and strode to the terrace doors. In one swift movement, he shoved them open, allowing a cool breeze to enter the stifling chamber. A gush of swirling wind gave the room an ethereal presence, giving life to the fluttering bed curtains.
Unwillingly, his gaze returned to her. She looked at him as if he were her knight in shining armor. Her sweet, glistening eyes captured his unbidden desire, and his pulse raced through his veins. Why does this slip of girl have such an effect on him? The kiss they shared by the lake returned to his mind. It was almost his undoing. He nearly forgot who she was, who she wanted to be. An awkward moment stretched between them.
Wordlessly, he walked onto the terrace to cool his ardor. Sweet roses mingled with a sharp aroma of dewy grass gave him a brief reprieve.
A tentative hand glided over his shoulder. He turned to face Molly’s provocative beauty.
“I am ready to lose my…my maidenhead,” Molly stuttered softly and dropped the cloth from her shoulders.
Devlin devoured the long length of her smooth body. A dusting of delectable freckles lined her shoulders, challenging him to kiss each one. Her pink tipped breasts jutted forward, and he wondered how they would feel against his tongue? Warm, or cool from the night air?
As if intoxicated, he swayed closer to her until he noticed her hands. They rested by her side, but trembled like a butterfly’s wings.
Her nervousness was like a cold bucket of water upon his aroused body.
“Get some rest,” his voice was heavy with reproach. He stepped away from her and without turning, left the room.
Molly collapsed on the bed in relief and disappointment. “He does not desire me.”
Looking down at herself, she lifted her heavy breasts in both hands, wishing she had a different body. A powerful man like the marquess would be accustomed to exquisite women of tight bodies with little flaw. Attractive ladies with perky breasts.
She groaned and threw herself backward onto the oversized cushions. Hurt tears flowed from her eyes. She willed her bruised heart to harden, but it did not obey.
After the last tear had streaked her cheeks, she covered herself with soft blankets. Emotionally depleted and exhausted, her wounded pride finally allowed her to drift asleep.
Laughter floated up to her room through the open terrace doors, waking Molly from a light slumber. The candle sconces had since extinguished while darkness outside invaded her room. Molly pushed to her feet and goose bumps ran over her body, instantly chilling her skin. Pulling a blanket from the warm bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders, the heavy fabric soft against her skin. She stepped away from the bed only to stumble over a solid object.
“Blast!” Hopping, she clutched her pounding toe then picked up the offending item. Her worn carpetbag gleamed in the moonlight. Someone must have come in while she slept. The butler? She shivered at the thought of the old servant standing near the bed, watching her with those eerie, condescending eyes.
Molly opened her bag and pulled out a simple green gown. It was one of the best dresses she owned, but the worn material was creased.
Her stomach growled with hunger. She had to find something to eat. Maybe at this time of night there would be very few guests awake. Another round of laughter invaded her room and she looked toward the terrace. Perhaps she was too optimistic.
The blanket dropped in a whisper to the floor. She quickly dressed then pulled a comb through her tangled hair. Without looking in the mirror, she left to find anything that would silence the loud rumblings within.
Padding down the stairs with bare feet, she found a golden-haired maid with a tiny waist and ample breasts spilling from her bodice.
“Pardon me, miss, but could you please show me where I could get something to eat?”
The attractive servant smiled and with a French accent replied, “Through those doors, my lady.” Curtsying, she scurried off.
“But I’m not a …” Molly cut her sentence when the maid was too far away to hear. Shrugging her shoulders, she opened a door into a deserted dining room. Molly walked around a long formal table that could have sat a hundred people. The smell of freshly baked pastries watered her mouth as she neared a serving counter along the wall. Various cheeses, fruit, and breads lined the table in shining silverware. She had never seen so much food in her life.
Molly chose every succulent morsel upon the platters and sat at one of the place settings. She ate hastily, feeling small and awkward in such a huge, empty room.
Having finally appeased her stomach, she popped the last bite of a cinnamon truffle in her mouth. On her way through the foyer, she heard a low familiar voice coming from the library.
Her heart leapt in response.
Was that Devlin?
Molly had just entered through the doorway when she realized he was not alone. Nobody had seen her as she backed out and stood against the wall. She peeked around the corner.