Carnal Pleasures Read Online Free

say, Griff, I spy someone I want to meet. I don’t know who she is, but I mean to find out.”
    Griff followed his gaze. It landed upon a sweet-faced debutante just out of the schoolroom. “The lovely blonde standing beside her hatchet-faced chaperon, you mean?”
    Rand nodded.
    “You’re extraordinarily brave tonight, Rand. But if she interests you, make sure you get a proper introduction. Then sign her dance card. She won’t turn you down. Not with your title and fat purse.” Griff gave his friend a forward nudge. “I’ll stay out of your way and catch up with you later.” He strolled on alone, thinking to try the card room. He still owned a small bit of coin with which to gamble.
    Griff reached a less crowded section of the ballroom and stopped, leaning a nonchalant shoulder against an open archway. His casual stance was posed next to a potted palm as he cast his eyes over the glittering ballroom. Everyone in Town must be at the Welborn’s ball tonight, or so it seemed to his roving glance. He’d been away from the London scene for four years and had almost forgot how to flirt. It wouldn’t be wise to show interest in anyone special until he had chosen a target for tonight’s seduction. Griff smoothed a gloved hand over his golden curls. He knew he made a good appearance, even with a slight bump in his nose, thanks to his encounter with the three Spaniards. He had known females were attracted to him when he entered puberty. A flicker of a smile to coax interest, a sly wink, and willing wenches flocked to him in droves. But, of course, by that time he was on the Town and behaving like a randy libertine. He fashioned himself like his pretty-faced father who had plenty of charisma and ended up with a lot less blunt. Boswell Spencer pissed away all of Griff’s inheritance during years of high living with liquor, cards and dice, and loose women.
    Was it a need for penance that took his father to end his life? Griff often wondered. Boswell Spencer had shot himself in an alley in one of the worst sections of London. Griff wasn’t about to take the same way out of his current predicament.
    Griff got a whiff of exotic perfume even before someone placed a jeweled glove on his forearm. His head swiveled toward a very attractive, older woman standing beside him.
    She appeared to be born a decade before him, but she was still handsome. She was petite, with a lush figure, and was scantily clad in a gown of whispery, almost sheer, pale blue voile. Her ample bosom swelled above the low neckline. It was clear to Griff that her garment was meant to cling, so it would draw male attention to her figure. The sparkling gems in the elaborate necklace draped around her neck, the large jewels dangling from her ears, and the two enormous rings and intricate bracelet she wore outside her glove were of instant interest to Griff’s sharp eyes.
    The woman was alone when she sidled up to him. Cosmetics cleverly disguised her age, neither dissipation nor years of ingrained lines flawed her well-tended complexion. Her strawberries-and-cream skin still looked soft and inviting. Her lips were full and pouting, her large, blue eyes rimmed by kohl. The result was quite stunning.
    “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she warbled, her melodious voice husky and pitched to a sultry intimacy, as if she were lying next to him after indulging in a round of satisfactory sexual play.
    Immediately, both Griff’s ears and his latent cock perked up.
    Her body language was obvious to him; the woman was on the prowl, and she had approached him deliberately. It wasn’t anything overt he did or caused. She simply singled him out for attention. Perhaps it was his uniform. Perhaps, it was his Adonis-like muscular virility beneath the clothes. He was more than curious, eager to learn more. Like a jolt in the ribs, why should a quick spurt of trepidation worry him? Could it be that she recognized him?
    Griff had drunk too much brandy earlier and wasn’t nearly