Page 18 of Surrender to Sin

His gut clenched hard. “Are you having second thoughts about the plan? About Baxter?”

“I, ah,” she whispered, looking away. Then she straightened her shoulders and re-met his gaze. “No. I just panicked at the thought of meeting royalty. I’m sorry, Sin.”

“You called me Sebastian in the carriage.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” he replied, leaning close, unable to stop himself tucking a loose curl behind her ear and stroking her cheek. “When you begged me to fill your pussy because you were so wet and aching you couldn’t bear it anymore. I liked it.”

Grace shivered. “I like your real name. It’s gallant. Sensual. But solid, too.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Sin glanced back to where Prinny was now impatiently beckoning them to approach. If he stared any longer at the lavender silk barely constraining Grace’s visibly hard nipples, he might shove her up against a pillar, tear her gown, and feast on them before fucking her senseless again. Christ. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He was behaving like a rash young buck on his first night out.

“Come on. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be in the Prince’s disfavor, and believe me, that is not a place you want to exist. He’s a charming friend, but his grudges hold fast for a very long time, even the petty ones.”

Guiding her across to the royal box, Sin bowed low, feeling rather than seeing Grace execute a perfect curtsy beside him.

“You took your time, Sin. Thought you were giving me the cut direct for a while there. Most shabby,” said the Prince of Wales in an ominously petulant tone, when Sin was standing straight again.

“My fault, your royal highness,” said Grace, blinking up at the prince, her eyes sapphire pools and her smile sweeter than honey. “I was altogether overcome at the thought of meeting you.”

“Looked more like you were overcome at what Sin was doing. Don’t think you would have minded at all if he’d thrown you over his shoulder and rushed off to one of those darkened walkways, what? Ha! Are you new to the harem?”

Color streaked across Grace’s cheeks. “I am…not an employee, your royal highness.”

Prinny’s eyes bulged. “Well. Sin, introduce me at once to your companion. She sounds like a proper lady and dresses like one, too. Yet she stands rather close, and lets you touch her in public. I am most intrigued.”

This was it.

Unclenching his jaw, Sin glanced at Grace. The tiniest nod indicated he continue. “Your royal highness. May I present the dowager Countess Carrington. Grace to her dearest friends.”

The Prince Regent chortled, staring hungrily at her breasts. “Of course! No wonder Carrington kept you to himself. I would also. But the widow has come to town to let down her hair, hmmm? Naughty, naughty Grace. So, tell me. Exactly how well do you know our favorite Sin?”

“Rather well,” she purred, shooting the prince a heavy-lidded look.

“One might say,” said Sin, quelling the urge to punch the future king by lifting Grace’s hand to his mouth and kissing each of her knuckles before deliberately curving his hand around her lush backside and squeezing. “We are very, very close friends. But do not tell Lord Baxter!”

“Oh indeed,” added Grace quickly, “we beg you, sir, do not tell a soul. Lord Baxter is intent on courting me. Imagine if such an upright and morally sound man discovered I wasn’t at all a virtuous widow!”

The prince’s eyes gleamed. “Virtue is vastly overrated, my dear. But your scandalous little secret is safe with me. Now, I command you both to join me for champagne and sweets. Berry tarts, custards, cheesecake and whatnot, quite good I suppose, but not a patch on Fa…well, you know where.”

Sin stifled a laugh. He hardly needed confirmation that Prinny was responsible for all the salacious gossip about Fallen’s activities. The man leaked like a rusty bucket. But judging by the malicious smiles and flurry of movement in the royal box, not to mention the boxes on either side, his and Grace’s secret was now moving at the speed of a runaway cart from ton member to ton member.

He’d estimated about an hour for the news to spread across London. It seemed that was entirely too conservative. Baxter would be hailed and informed and consoled by ‘concerned friends’ in half that time.

By tomorrow evening at most, Grace would be a free woman.

Who wouldn’t need him any longer.

Fuck.

Chapter Five

Wincing as Nell arranged her hair into the ugliest, plainest, most no-nonsense coiled braid in the history of style, Grace worried her tender lower lip, the recipient of her anxiety for several hours now. “Stop looking at me like that. I hate it as much as you do.”

Her maid harrumphed. “My eyes are merely encouraging you to tell me what on earth is going on. When your father and stepmother arrived in high dudgeon this morning, I thought for sure the Vauxhall outing had worked a treat and Baxter was no more. But now the four of you are attending a church roof fundraiser?”

“I don’t understand it myself. The Prince Regent made such a fuss over us last night, and Sebastian—”