Smuggler's Lair by Virginia Henley Read Free Book Online

slipper bath decorated with hand-painted roses, glanced around the room. Its walls were hung with tapestries depicting medieval ladies and mythical beasts in wooded settings. There was a wide, velvet-curtained bed, a deep-piled carpet, an elaborate dressing table, and, best of all, a huge mirrored wardrobe, filled with feminine garments.
    An hour before, Falcon had carried her to the chamber below his, where breakfast and a bath awaited, and left her with the words, I’ll be gone for a couple of days on business. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Burke will be happy to oblige.
    He didn’t need to ask if I’d be here when he got back—the cocksure devil knows I want to stay. Tory laughed with delight. I never would have dared think such a word before I met Falcon. He has freed me from all my constraints. She thought of her corset and wiped away a tear of mirth.
    Victoria climbed from the bath, wrapped herself in a thirsty towel, and opened the wardrobe. The colors and textures were a feast for the eyes and she couldn’t resist touching the infinite variety of fabrics. She selected a pair of pink stays and was amazed to see that they lifted her breasts, but were not designed to cover them. Though she searched, there were no drawers to be found. Is it possible that Georgian ladies wore nothing beneath their skirts? How frightful. The corners of her mouth lifted. How delightful! She pulled on a pair of flesh-pink stockings and fastened them with ribbon garters adorned with rosebuds. Tory surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She knew the undergarment that left her breasts and bum bare was purposely designed to titillate the male of the species, and she also knew she had never looked nor felt more alluring in her life.
    She took quite a while to pick a dress because they were all impractical. The frivolous concoctions were more suited to evening than daytime, but finally she chose a pink and green striped taffeta with ruffled sleeves tied with ribbons. Its full skirt, nipped waist, and low-cut neckline made her feel deliciously feminine. She sat down at the dressing table and examined the array of face creams, rouge, and maquillage. She put on pink lip-rouge, darkened her brows, and could not resist a black silk beauty spot in the shape of a half-moon that she placed at the tip of her right cheekbone. Then she picked up a dainty fan and posed like a practiced coquette, trained in the use of artifice.
    â€œWhy on earth did women allow respectability to become the mode? It took all the fun out of our lives!”
    Tory looked from the window and saw that Lord Hawkhurst’s ship was gone. She wished with all her heart that she was sailing with him and vowed that the next time he boarded the Seacock, she would join him. She heard a knock and opened the door to find a pair of young male servants in livery who had come to empty and clean her bath. She surmised that Pandora was not roaming about loose and decided this was a good time to explore. This is my golden opportunity to see Bodiam Castle as it was a hundred years back in time.
    As she walked the passages and wandered through the high-vaulted chambers, her admiration for Hawkhurst grew by leaps and bounds. He had lavished love and devotion on Bodiam by restoring and maintaining the medieval castle as it was originally designed. Though the furniture in the rooms of his own tower was Georgian, the rest of the castle furnishings and fixtures were from the 14th century to match the architecture.
    Tory walked into the vast kitchen, where heat radiated from its enormous fireplaces. The flagstone floors and long wooden worktables were scrubbed spotless, and scores of cooking utensils hung from iron racks. The air was redolent with roasting meat and piquant, exotic spices. She spotted Mr. Burke, who was addressing the kitchen staff. “I’ve been exploring the castle. It’s the most fascinating place I’ve ever seen.”
    Burke introduced her