She patted his arm and pointed to the set of windows. “My aunt’s there.”
Deerhurst suddenly hunched down with her in his arms, his grip on her tightening. “In the drawing room? Are you sure?”
Phaedra nodded. “Unless I am hallucinating,” she paused, “which could well be the case.” Because her aunt was with a man, and they appeared very much entangled with each other.
He cursed, then tugged her back into his arms. “Let’s go.”
“No.” Phaedra squirmed out of his hold. “She’s not alone. I want to see who she is with.”
“Trust me, love, some things are better left unknown.”
Some things, yes. “Not this.”
She scrambled onto her haunches and slowly rose to peek through the crack. Phaedra’s jaw went slack as the sight before her stabbed through her hazed mind.
Her aunt reclined on one of the sofas—the same one she’d sat on this very morning. The sleeves of her dress had been pulled over her shoulders, allowing her breasts to spill out. That was not all—there was a man between her legs. A very naked man, and he flexed his hips against her aunt.
She watched in shock as the man suddenly flipped her aunt over and took position from behind.
Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, a word whispered through the fog.
Carnal.
“How—”
She was yanked back to the ground, her words cut off as Deerhurst covered her mouth with his hand. He must have thought she would cry out in alarm. But all Phaedra wanted to say was:How could her aunt be engaged in such an act?
Her gaze found Deerhurst, and he seemed as flustered as she was. Color rose high in his cheekbones, and pearls of sweat coated his brow.
“We need to go. Now.”
“My aunt, she... he... they...” She couldn’t finish the thought. In that moment, another image rose in her mind: her and Deerhurst.
Carnal.
*
Unbelievable.
The one time, the absolutely only time Deerhurst had thought there would be no surprises in that cursed drawing room, the most provocative scene yet would unfold. He ought to have known this would happen, given his luck tonight.
And dammit, why didhelook? He should have kept his arse on the ground. He should have dragged Phaedra away the moment he suspected something caught her attention. He should have known.
And he. Should. Not. Have. Looked.
Christ above.
Lady Portia had a lover. He would never have guessed. Or suspected. And by the looks of it, they held nothing back.
Bloody hell.
His body was on fire. It burned with need. The scene inside had been too vivid. The moment he set eyes on the couple, his imagination flared with scenes of him and Phaedra.
Phaedra provocatively displayed on that couch. Phaedra’s head falling back as she cried out in pleasure. Phaedra’s thighs parting as he thrust in deep.
Sweet Mother Mary.
His erection strained uncomfortably. It wanted out. It wanted her. Phaedra Sharp. She’d ruffled a lot more than his feathers. She ruffled every damn bit of good sense he possessed.
