Page 44 of Trade of a Lifetime (Trade Wind 1)

His hands took possession of her waist. “Would you be very angry if I tore this gown off you?”

Horrified, Clara saw his intent. Her hands crossed over her chest as she backed away. If he treated her clothing with the same care he did the items on his drawing room table, she’d have nothing to wear home!

“Do not dare, Mr. Rob—James! This is the only gown I have with me, and Iwillwalk out of here with it in the same condition as when I arrived. This is the easiest of my gowns to don and doff, so be glad it’s what I selected for tonight!”

“I noticed, Clara, I noticed.”

Anticipation pulsed through her at the look on his face. His passivity, letting her explore him without touching her in return, evaporated. As he took her into his arms, she met him, raising her mouth to be taken, ready for his ardor.

Instead, he reached down, clasped the back of her thighs, and lifted her straight up against his hard body. She whimpered and gripped his arms. He moved to his four poster tester bed and hoisted her away from him and onto the mattress.

Clara gasped as she flew through the air and grabbed at the counterpane as she landed. Shocked, she froze in the position in which she settled—on her back, knees raised, and legs spread. Her skirts caught on her stockings.

My ankles are exposed!

They must have caught James’s attention; he caressed her anklebone before pulling off one half-boot, then the other. He set her stockinged feet on the bed with care. His fingers wrapped around her ankles, then caressed up her calf.

Clara knew a moment of doubt as he gazed up and down her dress, far from her most alluring wardrobe item. He smiled wolfishly, and she couldn’t have felt more seductive had she been wearing a low-cut, fancy gown.

“Howdoesthis gown come off? Besides being torn or cut off?”

Clara twisted at the waist to show the laces at her back. His hands were surprisingly clumsy as he loosened them, and he muttered under his breath.

She couldn’t help it. Her ribcage shuddered with quiet laughter, and it relieved her when he chuckled good naturedly. He helped her to her knees and together, they shimmied the mushroom-colored dress up and off.

No traces of humor remained on James’s tight face when he took in the sight of her. The ivory linen of her chemise was so fine that it was transparent over her mauve nipples.

“My petticoat.” She kept her voice steady despite her nerves and raised her arms, thankful she wore only one under her skirts.

He wiggled it up and off, watching unabashedly when her breasts rose with her arms.

“Sit here—he indicated the edge of the bed—“and I will do my best as a lady’s maid.”

He lowered himself to his knees on the floor and smiled when he spied her pale-yellow hose. The eyelet scalloped hem of her drawers came past her knees, decorated with matching yellow ribbon and rosebud embroidery.

“You wore yellow when I first saw you,” he breathed. “Do you favor this hue?”

The moment was so fraught with anticipation, she was so awash in sensation, Clara could only treat his question as rhetorical.

He lifted one of her feet, pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle.

Of all the ways she imagined James Robertson touching her, none involvedthis. His attention and touch felt adoring.

He lifted the hem of her chemise to her thighs and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her knee. Even through her drawers and stockings, his mouth was warm and moist. His lips skimmed up her thigh to the open slit of her drawers.

He was some distance from her cleft, yet it was as if he grazed across her clitoris when he nibbled along her inner thigh.

James lifted the hem of her chemise from thigh to waist. Her hands covered the slit between her legs where her drawers gaped. He left her that modesty but tugged her garters and rolled her pale-yellow silk hose down.

On his knees before her, he traced the rosebuds on her drawers. Her hands trembled where they overlapped over her pubic bone.

“Is this how you react when your maid undresses you?” His teasing voice was a low rumble.

“This isn’t how it feels then!”

James smiled, shifting his attention to her hands. He stroked her knuckles with a gentle fingertip, then brushed kisses over them.

His tongue caressed suggestively between two of her fingers. She cried out, but her hands remained in place.

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