Tutoring Miss Molly Read Online Free

moist flesh sent delicious ripples over her heated body. What would it be like to be one of those women who—
    The portrait was ripped out of her hand, and she jumped in fright.
    A stranger leaned over her with a dark, murderous look.
    Where did he come from?
    Backing against the windowsill, embarrassment and fear stirred within until she wanted to melt into the lush carpet. Sweet Mary, did he see her touching herself?
    “Do not handle this painting again,” he growled and roughly brushed a lock of bronze hair off his forehead.
    “I—I—”
    “You were probably about to steal it,” he accused and lingered over the portrait. Clearing his throat, he returned the frame to the mantle.
    Shock and anger dampened her arousal. “To what purpose would I steal a painting of a woman I do not even know?” She shoved her hands on her hips.
    His keen gray-blue eyes were like silver metal, coldly assessing her. Beneath his scowl, his square face and wide mouth was dark and foreboding.
    “To sell the frame,” he said in a low voice, thick with accusation.
    With an unladylike snort, Molly stepped closer and glimpsed at the portrait, “Who is she?”
    Silence answered. Was her question too impertinent?
    “ She is my mother, Lady Ann.” He touched the frame with tenderness.
    “She is beautiful.”
    He glanced up at her statement. The pain etched within his pale eyes mirrored haunted memories. He ran a hand through his copper hair and studied her shrewdly. “My mother furnished this room. She said it afforded her great comfort.”
    “Your mother must be a fine lady.”
    “She was.” He sat on the sofa and crossed his legs with casual ease, his lips thinned. “But she hated me.”
    Shocked at the matter-of-fact statement, Molly stared at him. “Surely not.”
    She sat in the seat opposite the mysterious gentleman. Acutely aware of his virile physique, he commanded an air of sexual confidence and power. She’d wager a female would have no defense with her virtue against such overwhelming masculinity.
    He edged forward, a cynical twist to his mouth. “Do not concern yourself. Lady Ann despised everyone.”
    “How is it you are so sure she hates you?”
    No sooner did the words leave her mouth, Molly regretted them. Oh why can’t she control her curiosity? Boldness with personal questions had found Molly in many awkward situations. This one included.
    Molly squirmed in the heavy silence of the gentleman’s prickly glare. Coughing delicately, she wanted to change the subject when her surly companion interjected in a rich baritone. “She must have hated me. Why else would she kill herself?” he calmly replied, as if he conversed about the weather while strolling through Vauxhall Gardens.
    A myriad of emotions flitted through his eyes, and then a veil of disinterest fell into place. “I have been neglectful of my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Marquess of Wilton, Lord Devlin Harman the Fifth. Since I have the honor of tutoring you, you now belong to me and will obeymy command at all times.”
    The aristocrat studied Molly’s reaction, but she would not give him the advantage of knowing how her chest stung with irritation. She had never belonged to a man before, especially one so arrogant and self-assured. Molly schooled her features into a blank stare. She must brace herself for the scandalous life of a courtesan. If this was how it was going to start, then so be it.
    His brow furrowed with surprise. Was he disappointed she accepted his command?
    He cleared his throat. “The next full moon will hold the mistress auction where the courtesans are bid upon. This is your chance to show unique sexual skill before the more experienced guests. Once the auction is completed, the highest bidder will make love to you on stage...in front of everyone.” His gaze traveled the length of her body. “It is very prestigious for a courtesan to be chosen. If you are, your desirability as a superior mistress will be