Page 79 of The Devil's Pawn

“Oh, she had to go home earlier than expected.” The lie trips off my tongue, but I don’t regret it. Vicky already thinks badly of this family. There’s little to be gained from giving her more ammunition.

A movement to my left catches my eye. Alexander.

I hold my breath, more anxious for his visible approval than I’m willing to admit to myself. He says something to Christian—hopefully in relation to Zenith—then moves through the room as if he’s walking on air. He nods curtly to Vicky, then knits our fingers together.

“You look stunning, Imogen.” He so rarely uses my name that I widen my eyes in surprise.

Vicky mutters an, “Excuse me,” and melts into the background, joining her sister on the far side of the dining room.

“Or do you prefer Little Pawn?”

I clear my throat. “Imogen works.”

He smirks. “I’ll save my pet name for when it’s just us, then.”

When his father arrives, Alexander pulls out a chair for me. I take a seat, pleased when Vicky sits next to me.

Christian barks out a laugh. “Demoted again, I see. First Imogen, now Victoria.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was your seat.” Vicky pushes back her chair. Christian puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m teasing. Stay where you are.”

He takes the chair next to hers. I catch the merest glimpse of Nicholas glowering at his brother, but then Elizabeth says something, and his scowl smooths into a faint smile.

How interesting. He could be playing the part of protective soon-to-be brother-in-law, but I’m not sure. Then again, he was given the choice of bride, and he chose Elizabeth, so I’m clearly reading into something that isn’t there.

Steaming bowls of French onion soup are set down in front of us, bubbling with cheese and smelling divine. As I dip in my spoon, Alexander’s hand runs up my bare thigh where my dress is cut to my hip.

“This is awfully convenient.”

I flash a glance at Vicky, but she’s not paying any attention to us. When Alexander slides his hand between my legs, though, I clamp them shut. He leans close to me, his breath tickling my ear.

“Either open your legs for me, or I will bend you over this table, and you will open them for everyone.”

A rush of lust hits me in the abdomen, and my muscles contract. He’s teasing. At least I think he is. It’s hard to tell with my mercurial husband.

“We’re at dinner,” I mutter.

“So?”

I glance around the table, settling my gaze on Charles. “Your father?—”

“Isn’t paying any attention to us.”

It’s true. Charles is deep in conversation with Nicholasand Elizabeth sitting on his left. To my right, Christian is regaling Vicky with some tale or other, and Saskia is teasing Tobias over his rather gaudy bow tie.

“Open your legs, Imogen.”

Fluttery sensations fill my chest. This is wrong, illicit, and yet I can’t stop myself from parting my thighs a few inches. It’s enough for Alexander to go exploring. When his fingers dip inside my panties, I suck in a breath.

“Eat your soup.”

How does he expect me to eat with his fingers penetrating me like this? I’ll either burn my mouth or spill soup down my chin.

His thumb grazes my clit, circling, flicking. He curls his fingers, pushing air from my lungs with a whoosh. Vicky glances at me.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

She’s not wrong, even if she is referring to the soup rather than my husband’s exhibitionist tendencies. I’m hot enough to melt. Perspiration beads between my breasts and along the nape of my neck. I can’t do anything other than nod, and thankfully, she returns to her conversation with Christian.

---