Passion Over Time by KyAnn Waters, Natasha Blackthorne, Tarah Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

sensed she was being difficult on purpose. Irritation intruded on his pleasurable excitement. One thing he prized above all in a mistress was a willingness to please.
    “Come now, up,” he said, forcing his most implacable tone.
    With a small shrug, she complied and he began removing her hairpins. “You think of words like dexterity when you’re on the verge of coming?” he asked.
    “When it applies. So how did you become so dexterous?”
    “The sextant requires it.”
    She laughed breathily, leaning towards him. Her hair fell over her face, a heavy mass of spun palest gold and silver blonde threads. He regarded her plain wire pins with disdain. Hair so beautiful should be dressed with pearls and gems.
    No, wait—a silver tiara of diamonds and aquamarines.
    Could such an item be found in the United States or would it have to come from Europe? Factor in the blockade-runner—Christ, she was going to cost him a small fortune.
    She traced along the fall of his pantaloons.
    He clasped her wrist and detained it.
    She looked down at his hand and raised her brows. “We’re not going to—”
    “Not yet. I want to discuss some matters.”
    She glanced up, an incredulous grin on her lovely mouth. “You want to talk?”
    His balls were heavy, aching. Yet he managed to return her smile with a placid expression. “Yes.”
    “My time is very limited.”
    “I sent a note for my valet to fetch us some strawberries and champagne. He shall be here soon.”
    She gave an exaggerated shudder. “I hate southern berries.”
    “These are local.” He let go her wrist, then smoothed the hair off her face, delighting in its thistledown texture.
    “Impossible, the spring has been too cold.”
    “They grow them in a hothouse or something, I don’t know. They’re very sweet. ”
    “I wouldn’t know. It all sounds terribly expensive.”
    The reference to her poverty reminded him of something that had been nagging at him since he’d met her. And God knew he needed something to concentrate on besides the throbbing in his cock. He suppressed a wince and shifted his body to relieve the pressure of his erection against his pantaloons. “Beth, why aren’t you married? A beauty like you should have done well on the marriage mart.”
    She studied her nails. “I enjoy my freedom.”
    That seemed a very odd response. The only young women who could afford “freedom” were heiresses. And Beth could command a fortune if only she’d  bargain for it. But she didn’t seem to know that. Apparently, she’d rather work her hands to the point of calluses than profit from the exquisite beauty that she’d been gifted with. He suddenly wanted to know more about her. What drove such a girl to be the way she was?
    “Beth, if you could do anything you wanted to, what would you do?”
    Her expression grew serious. “I would teach piano.” Enthusiasm electrified her eyes to the palest blue pearlescence. It gave him a sensation like having the wind knocked out of him. As though he’d been slammed in the chest.
    “Really? You can play it that well?”
    “Yes, so I have been told. I play for wages at Mrs. Bickle’s Inn on Maple Street in the afternoons. But it doesn’t pay much.” She sighed. “I do it mostly for the privilege of having access to a piano.”
    Passion resonated in her voice. He’d never witnessed a woman become passionate about something unrelated to jewels, ribbons and bonnets, or getting a husband or babies. But then again, he’d never spoken intimately with a woman from the lower sort. This other side of her fascinated him. The aching in his groin began to ease to a low hum.
    “Where did you learn?”
    “My mother worked for a kindly lady who lost her own daughter to a fever and she allowed me many liberties in her home. She taught me how to play.”
    “You should take on as many students as you can manage and earn as much as you can while youth and health are on your side.”
    She looked very sad. So sad that the last