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jumped every time Dare said a word to her.
Indira turned away to hide her surprise. Dare had been married. The thought
unsettled her, though for no reason she could think of.
He doesn t ignore you like that.
I m sorry, I wasn t attending. Who doesn t?
Dare, said Sabina, as though speaking to a small child. He mostly ignored Emily.
It was as though he didn t even know she was there. Mama called her a mouse. But he
looks at you all the time.
Oh? Indira tried to swallow.
Haven t you noticed? Sometimes I think he wants to eat you up. Just like a lemon
ice.
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Erica Anderson
Indira opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The image of Dare s dark head
buried between her thighs rose to mind.
Sabina seemed not to notice. She slid off the bed, then leaned forward and hugged
Indira. After a moment of surprise, Indira hugged her back. I ve always wanted a
sister, said Sabina in a wistful tone. Perhaps we shall become the best of friends and
share all our secrets with each other. Oh, I can t wait until you re not tired anymore and
can come with us to a ball.
Thank you. I d like that very much, said Indira, surprised at how much she meant
it.
* * * * *
Several days of constant activity followed, in which Lady Dare and Sabina insisted
that Indira accompany them to dressmakers and milliners and glovers. By the end of
the week, she had carriage dresses, morning dresses and evening gowns. She was
caught between a desire to live as simply as possible and the need to appear presentable
in public. Presentable to Lady Dare required vast amounts of clothing, most of it
ghastly expensive. Yet Indira was somehow gratified by their interest and attention. It
was a new experience for her, to be fussed over and made much of.
Indira had protested at first, agreeing to one dress for daytime and another for
evening, but Sabina was horrified. You can t wear the same dress in one week. Mama,
tell her she can t!
Apparently, it was simply not done.
Though Indira cared little for the fripperies, she had been absolutely immovable on
the issue of color, adamantly refusing the pastel pinks and robin s egg blues favored by
many of the season s young ladies. She found unexpected support from the dressmaker,
who agreed, somewhat to her surprise, that mademoiselle would be best served by
richer colors. Thus, when she descended to dinner that evening in a hastily altered
gown, she was pleased to see Dare s eyes darken when he caught sight of her.
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Not Quite a Lady
She wore a dress of gold silk with crimson trim, the bodice cut low over her bosom.
When she entered the drawing room, Dare rose, his gaze sweeping from her elegant
topknot along the slender curve of her throat to dwell pointedly upon her breasts. She
allowed him to look his fill, and she lifted her chin. When he at last met her eyes, she
felt the throbbing start, low in her belly.
Since both Lady Dare and Sabina were habitually late, Indira lifted her hand to her
décolletage, running a finger along the edge of her bodice. The silk is very fine, she
said. I will bankrupt you with the cost.
Dare narrowed his eyes. The cost be damned. He came forward to take her hand,
his fingers closing possessively over her own. You will have half the bucks in town
slavering over you, you know. I anticipate pistols at dawn.
Indira shook her head. Not on my account, she said. I agreed to this only to
please your mother. I had not thought she could be quite so&
Persuasive? finished Dare. I am glad she was, if this is the result.
Don t, said Indira. Don t mistake the gown as anything but window dressing.
I m not a woman of your sort.
Of my sort? he asked. And what, precisely, is my sort?
Indira turned to look at him. You know what I mean. I don t belong here. She
gestured with one hand and Dare noticed again how dark her skin was, how she fairly
glowed in the candlelight. I cannot say what I think, for fear of offending your mother.
I cannot walk like a normal person, for this dress constrains me.
And the corsets? Dare prompted on some wicked impulse. Do they bother you
as well?
You know they do, she said, giving him a defiant look.
He deliberately dropped his eyes to her breasts, his gaze taking in their curving
fullness, pushed high and presented for his delectation like exotic sweets. As he
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Erica Anderson
watched, her nipples hardened, and he was caught off guard by his response. His cock
stiffened and his mouth had gone suddenly dry.
You see, she said, in an undertone, it is the covering up that arouses you. Not
what lies beneath.
That s where you re mistaken, he said, his voice rough. I find it all arousing. A
bit of silk and satin doesn t change that. But you must understand that I cannot act on
such impulses anymore.
Oh? she asked. Because I am a how did you put it a dependent relative?
And so you are.
She gave a sniff of derision that would have been perfectly at home in any ballroom
in London. Dare wondered whether she realized how well her natural confidence
prepared her for the petty rivalries of the ton.
Ah. And your sense of honor somehow forbids you from taking your pleasure
from a dependent?
You know damn well it does.
I see. But unknown women at public houses are perfectly acceptable.
Dare turned and prowled to the end of the drawing room, desperate to put as much
space between him and Indira Stuart as was physically possible. What had possessed
him to stare at her like that? He had been resolute in his determination to treat her as a
guest of the family. And his lordship did not tumble honored guests, no matter how
desirable they were. He regretted taking her at the house in Wantage he had known
who she was by then, but had still surrendered to the urge to back her up against a wall
and fuck her senseless.
What was his mother thinking to dress her in a gown cut so low, in a bodice
designed to show off the enchanting swell of her breasts? She wasn t husband hunting,
for God s sake. Every man who saw her would be thinking exactly what was running
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Not Quite a Lady
through his mind now how she would look naked, all that auburn hair spread out on
a pillow, her thighs open, slit dripping with arousal.
Dare cursed, though it did nothing to lessen the bulge in his trousers. A gentleman
did not fuck houseguests. Only a beastly degenerate would do such a thing. But the
past week he had felt like a starving man sitting at a table of delicacies, none of which
were within reach. He had passed her bedroom door two nights in a row after sitting
up late in the study, trying to drink himself into a stupor. He was too old for it, he
thought. He hadn t the appetite for drinking to excess anymore, nor for the blasted
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