Wallflowers Don't Wilt by Raven McAllen Read Free Book Online Page B

None compared to what he saw now.
    Arabella, her glossy chestnut curls cascading down her back, arose from a long, wide, deep crimson velvet sofa as he entered. She swept a low curtsy, her eyes mischievous as she indicated the sheer, pale pink muslin she was wearing. Or almost wearing, he amended. It left her shoulders and the swell of her breasts totally bare and did little to cover the rest of her.
    “Is this suitable?” Her tone was mocking, and her eyes were bright.
    He found he could not speak. Serena, her long, straight, almost-white hair, which was left totally undressed to fall in a shining waterfall to her waist, was similarly attired. No slouch in what colors suited different females, he would not have even hazarded a guess the same shade of pink would suit them both so perfectly. Yet it did, as it hinted and teased as to what was beneath it.
    He saw a hint of a nipple with its delicate puckering showing clearly. Strangely no shadow of downy curls, which, especially on Arabella with her dark coloring, he had thought might be noticed. He guessed Serena, with her coloring so fair, would be harder to discern. For although the material flowed gently around their feminine shapes, no hint of curls showed on either of them. His breath hitched as he wondered if that meant what he hoped it did.
    “Ladies.” He returned their salute as Serena joined Arabella in a curtsy. “You are truly pearls above any price tonight.”
    Serena laughed. “Oh, Ivo, why not say what you mean? Do we suit?” She twirled around, the muslin flowing after her, trying to catch up. He laughed, appreciating the view. Arabella, meanwhile, had reseated herself on the sofa, which he noted was toned to show off their assets to perfection. Clever, his ladies.
    Serena collapsed next to Bella, her face alight with laughter and—he felt sure!—a hint of challenge.
    “So, loves, do I dare offer you a drink?”
    “With dinner, perhaps,” Bella spoke. “We did not offer you refreshment, for as you take great pains to tell us, we are—well, perhaps, three—therefore, you help yourself. As I consider you will anyway.” He nodded his agreement.
    “When do we sit down to eat?”
    “Whenever you so desire. Your wish is our every command.”
    He had no illusions about that patently untrue statement. “Bella, do not make promises neither of you have any desire to fulfill,” he chided.
    She spluttered. Serena laughed, then murmured softly, “My love, he has you there.”
    “However, I am desirous to eat as soon as we are able,” Ivo continued, controlling his desire to succumb to amusement. “For we need our food to be well digested.”
    He waited for a query. None was uttered. Instead Serena moved to the wall and pulled the bell rope. She saw his look of surprise. “A prearranged signal with the treasure you sent to us for the food to be left in the dining room. Dressed as we are, or rather undressed, we do not wish to scare the servants away before they even start. Nor do we wish to change our attire, only to be asked to change again after we have eaten. So, the food will be ready for us in precisely three minutes. A simple meal, Your Grace.” Her eyes twinkled. “We were somewhat occupied with pressing matters regarding dress for most of the afternoon. Oh, and Mrs. Lawson?” she expanded. “She and Lawson are exactly what we want here. As are the others. We are ever in your debt, Ivo.”
    “I’m sure you will both think of some way to repay the debt.” He held out his arms. “May I escort you into dinner?”
    He admired the contrast they made as they walked from the drawing room through a door at the back of the room that opened directly into a compact, informal dining room. Himself, tall, well built, dark, very correctly and implacably dressed. The ladies, petite, slight, beautifully shaped feminine bodies, one brunette, one blonde, both very improperly dressed, unconsciously flirting with every step they took.
    The table, set for