Sweet as the Devil by Susan Johnson Read Free Book Online

kind. Before long, couples began to wander off to indulge their passions.
    An extremely voluptuous natch girl had attracted Rupert’s notice, her curvaceous body a potent lure to the eye, her explicit sexuality appealing to more carnal sensibilities. She was ravishing and available, and he’d never denied himself the pleasures of the flesh. What handsome young man of wealth had? Not that the scantily clad, bejeweled dancer wasn’t an extraordinary treasure; she put his former lovers to shame, her scent alone a tantalizing aphrodisiac. It was inevitable that when she said in charmingly accented English, “Show me, how do you say, your virile member,” Rupert laughed and replied in unaccented English, “It would be my pleasure.”
    Once they were ensconced in his commodious bed and had gratified their carnal appetites for an enchanting period of time, Rupert decided she was quite remarkable—a tantalizing vixen with an incredible gift for sustaining sensation. He would remember this night with fondness. Then she gently nibbled on his cock, curtailing his musing, his erection quickly rose once again, and he softly groaned as every delicate nibble and piquant lick brought his blood to boiling point. But when he climaxed that time, a strange lethargy overcame him—not unpleasant . . . comforting in a way, like falling asleep in a bed of jasmine. Ah—that was her scent, he thought as he drifted off. Jasmine . . .
    The instant Rupert’s breathing slowed into that of deep sleep, two men who’d been watching the couple from behind a half-closed door quietly entered the room. One remained at the door, the other moved soft footed toward the bed. With a curt nod he dismissed the woman lying beside Rupert. The dark-haired beauty sat up, pushed aside the sheer silk curtains enclosing the bed, rose to her feet, gathered up her jewelry, and nude and splendid, walked from the room without a backward glance.
    Rupert didn’t stir, the slow-acting sleeping potion she’d slipped into his wine having taken effect.
    Von Welden’s agent glanced over his shoulder. His accomplice dipped his head, signaling that they were alone. The trim, middle-aged man who traveled with the party as a factotum for Prince Reiger turned back to the fair-haired youth resting peacefully on his back. Pulling a coil of silk cord from his pocket, he slipped the garrote around Rupert’s neck and expertly strangled the heir to the duchy of Dalmia.
    It was not a random act.
    Rupert had been a marked man since he departed Vienna.
    While Rupert had no personal enemies, a number of impersonal circumstances had led to his death. An ancient covenant certified that the duchy of Dalmia would revert to the Habsburg crown should the Battenberg line expire. Prince Ernst could remarry and sire a child, but he was in his fifties, which suggested that even should a child result, that child would likely be a minor on Ernst’s death. The obligatory regency would ensue, which was even more likely to prove unsuccessful if history in that unstable region followed convention.
    However, the need to hasten the end of the duchy of Dalmia was prompted by more than ancient covenants. Quite apart from Ernst’s imprudent meddling in Austrian politics, and more pertinent, was the fact that gold had been clandestinely discovered in the Dinaric Alps that formed the eastern border of Dalmia.
    As minister of police and virtual dictator of Vienna, Count Von Welden had naturally been privy to the report. Venal to the core and in need of sizeable funds to finance the Versailles-like estate he was building in Hungary, he’d calculated that the transfer of Ernst’s lands sooner rather than later would better serve his purposes.
    Von Welden was prepared to make Prince Ernst an offer he couldn’t refuse, and he rather thought the prince would accept. Ernst was a selfish man, and left without an heir, he’d likely see the wisdom in the old saw about a bird in the hand. Or so the minister of