Evil's Niece Read Online Free Page A

they require more ooh-la-la , you know? The neckline down to here,’ she said, tugging at the top of her uniform, ‘and the bosom perched high, up here.’
    My jaw dropped when she scooped out her own cleavage to illustrate her point…with two rosy brown points bobbing on soft mounds of flesh, hanging over the top of her pinafore.
    ‘And the skirts slit up to —’
    ‘I beg your pardon!’ I snapped.
    Monique paused, her hem hoisted to her hip to reveal a bare thigh bisected by her black garter strap. She studied me with mischievous eyes, yet her flippant air disappeared.
    ‘Never beg, Auntie Eve,’ she stated seriously. ‘It’s bad form to show desperation. And if you beg Dewel, well …’
    The maid rolled her eyes with the coquettish charm of a French floozie. ‘Dewel never lets you forget what you owe him, for granting your request.’
    Another truth I ignored at my own peril. After all, I had begged him to show me the ways of seduction. I was damn lucky it was his maid at my bedside, rather than the rogue himself.
    ‘You understand now, oui ? So, ma tante , if we visit the dressmaker —’
    ‘I am not your aunt, dammit!’
    I tossed aside my sheet to confront her, until her crestfallen expression made me realise I’d never been in control of this conversation. What sane woman allowed a total stranger — even if she was a zany, charming, exotic stranger — to instruct her in the ways of winning back her man?
    But then, hadn’t I asked my scandalous brother-in-law for the same advice? In his inimitably irritating way, Dewel had granted my request, and I must face the consequences of talking before my brain was engaged.
    At that moment, I was facing the shapely posterior of his Cajun maid, who’d leaned over to grasp the sides of my padded vanity bench. She backed towards me, her rounded bottom shifting beneath the black straps stretched taut to hold her dark stockings. Her black boots flexed with each step, accented by the subtle tapping of her heels on the floor.
    She stopped at my bedside, plopped down to make the white pad wheeze, and then crossed one ankle over the other knee. As she pulled something else from her bosom — a cheroot! — I noticed how firm and smooth her parted thighs looked, with skin resembling velvet.
    She wore no drawers.
    I averted my gaze, to watch her bite the end from her slender cigar, strike a match across the bottom of her boot, and then light up, with the air of a professor about to give her scholarly opinion of my situation. When she focused those coffee-coloured eyes on me, I was rendered speechless by this striking young woman and her array of contrasts, now wreathed by a ring of smoke.
    ‘Madame,’ she intoned, her cheroot resting demurely in the fork of her fingers, ‘I’ve been sent here on a mission, a rescue mission, by Monsieur Proffit himself. It’s a duty I take most seriously. No matter what you may think about Monique Picabou and her Cajun ways, she has your best interests at heart. I know things you cannot understand at this moment, but I’ll prepare your heart and your soul to change, so your body can follow.’
    I nodded, for what else could I do? Dewel had been playing puppeteer ever since I’d given him permission to take me over. I dared not doubt his maid’s intent — nor his — and this thought made me quiver with a curiosity that burned in my cheeks and my chest…and in that place between my legs that hadn’t gotten nearly enough attention these past seven years.
    My gaze wandered beneath Monique’s brief black skirt. ‘Where’s your underwear?’ I challenged, realising how matronly and disapproving I sounded.
    ‘I don’t own any.’ Her lips twitched with a smile. ‘I like the feeling of freedom, and I like to defy society. But mostly I enjoy knowing that Dewel, and my beau, Tommy Jon, think about me being naked down there. They consider the possibilities constantly — for that’s what men are all about, Auntie Eve.’
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