Duchess of Sin Read Online Free Page B

smelled faintly of lilacs, its springtime sweetness strange
     and unexpected in the lurid midst of the club. “Did she go in Lady Cannondale’s carriage?” If she walked, alone and unprotected
     in the cold night, he would have to rescue her.
    “One of the footmen found her a hackney.” McIntire hesitated before he went on, shuffling the invitations in his wrinkled
     hands. “She seemed rather upset, Your Grace.”
    And well she should be, the little
cailleach.
Sneaking into a masked ball—being dragged away and kissed by a barbaric Irishman. Hopefully she had learned her lesson.
    And hopefully
he
had learned his, too.
    “She shouldn’t have come here,” he said roughly. “Lady Cannondale should have more care with the people she chooses as her
     guests.”
    McIntire watched him thoughtfully. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but do you know her?”
    “I know she’s a young lady who has no business here. If she tries to come into the club again, McIntire, let me know at once.”
    “Of course, Your Grace.”
    “Sir!” one of the footmen called down the stairs. “Sarah sent me to tell you Lord Overton is asking for more credit in the
     card room.”
    “Tell her to meet me in my office; I’ll deal with it there.” Conlan folded Anna’s cloak over his arm and turned back up the
     stairs.
    Sarah waited for him in his small office, sitting on the edge of the desk, her long legs crossed under her black silk skirts.
     She smiled at him, leaning back on her palms as he closed the door behind him.
    “Took you long enough to get here, Conlan,” she said.
    Conlan tore off his mask, running his hand through his rumpled hair. “It’s a busy evening.”
    “Oh, yes, I know. Lots of dancing…”
    He ignored that. “There’s a problem with Overton?”
    “Not a
problem.
He just wants yet more credit. He used it all at the faro table tonight, the naughty man.”
    “Hmm.” Overton was one of the most vocal proponents of the Union of Ireland and England, thanks to the massive bribes he received
     from London. Had he gone through that money already, burying himself in gaming debts again? Interesting.
    But not as interesting as the appearance of Lady Anna Blacknall tonight. She stayed in his mind, like the
cailleach
he called her, refusing to depart and leave him in peace. He kept hearing her voice, feeling the softness of her skin under
     his touch and her breath on his lips.
    He tossed aside her cloak, the shimmering fabric sliding to the floor. If only
she
could be tossed aside so easily. He had the terrible suspicion that he had not seen the last of her, though. Something had
     bound them together since those secret moments in the deserted stable, and those bonds tightened now, reeling him closer to
     the mysterious golden witch.
    “
Aigh se
.” He didn’t
want
her in his head again; he couldn’t afford the distraction, not now when all his hard work was so close to completion. He
     just had to drive her out. She was just a woman, after all, and an Ascendancy woman at that. A pampered lady of the Protestant
     aristocracy.
    He smiled at Sarah, moving closer to the desk. He planted his hands on either side of her, feeling the warmth of her voluptuous
     body, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. A musky French blend, not fresh lilacs like Anna Blacknall.
    She laughed, throwing back her head as he pressed an openmouthed kiss to her shoulder, bared by the low-cutgown. Her brown hair gleamed in the lamplight and her tall body wrapped boldly around his as she pulled him against her. Sarah
     had none of the golden litheness of Anna, which was exactly what he needed to drive the
cailleach
away.
    “Do we have time?” Sarah whispered, her hands reaching eagerly for the front of his breeches.
    Her desire fueled his, as it always did. His old friendship with Sarah was uncomplicated, enjoyable, born of mutual need and
     mutual hatred of the English. But tonight, even as he kissed her, he kept seeing Anna’s