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trundle bed these past nights. But tonight perhaps
she should share her warmth with him. She untied her robe, pushed it off her
shoulders, and then crawled under the coverlet in her nightgown.
    Facing his body, she touched his shoulder, feeling the rock
hard resistance to her grasp. How fascinating. She’d never been with a man
possessed of the like. How did a gentleman gain such fitness and for what
purpose? If he awoke and fancied it, he could overpower her easily. Force her
to his will.
    As if the thought gave birth to action, he rolled toward
her. Her body tingled and the hairs on her nape stood up in pure apprehension.
    “Thérèse.” He slid his arm about her waist and buried his
face into her hair. “You’re so warm. Always warm.”
    Jeanne embraced him, pressing herself to him, and willed her
warmth to him.
    He slid his hands down to her bottom. “I adore your new
curves. You were always too thin.
    She couldn’t help a wry smile. “Too thin, eh?”
    “No matter. You knew I adored you in any case.”
    His voice held a mocking humor, as though he were laughing
at himself. Parts of him were not affected by the fever. His erection swelled
against her belly, huge and hot. She gasped and tried to back away. But he held
her in place with surprising strength, given his feverish state.
    A prickle of fear passed through her. He could overpower her
if he wished. What had she been thinking to get into bed with him? He leaned
closer until his breath tickled her face. A definite thrill chased down her
spine.
    “Have you been a good girl?”
    Had she? Well, she hadn’t written a useful word in weeks.
    “No touching yourself in your bed?”
    The question made her want to laugh. What would a man care
what a woman did in her private moments so long as she gave herself to him with
regularity?
    “Thérèse.” He feathered his fingertips over her cheek. “Is
he solicitous of your needs?”
    He brushed her hair back and then traced her ear. Strange
heated chills shot like winter’s lightning along all her nerve ends. Dr.
Edmonton had been her gentlest, most considerate lover. But David’s very touch,
just the right amount of teasing pressure, spoke of a skill she had never
before experienced. Never dreamed had existed.
    What must it be like to be made love to by such a man?
    His body relaxed. His breathing grew heavier. Wheezing
again. A soft snore issued. Having taken heat from her body, he slept again.
    Yet his cock still throbbed against her. A hollow, hungry
ache built in her loins.
    “You like to fuck as
much as a man does.” Bernard’s accusing words echoed in her mind.
    All right, so it was true: she liked bedding with a man. She
might have remained chaste as a nun. But she’d been forced by circumstances to
share her body. To unbutton her bodice and allow men to fondle her breasts. To
let their hands up her skirts, let them touch her private places. And when men
did these things, they hadn’t been cruel. She’d found that she liked being
touched, fondled, caressed—very much. She liked watching their erections grow
and knowing that they found her attractive. The too-plump girl with the shabby
clothes and the raving, insane father finally had something to offer. A way to
make it in the cold, uncaring world.
    Was it such a sin to find her pleasures where she could? To
have lain beneath those men and taken pleasure in their rising arousal, the
thrill of their cocks filling her, thrusting within her, sharing in the
exhilaration of the moment of their crisis?
    Yet she’d always remained somehow cold, unable to feel more
than a vicarious joy. She’d learnt to pretend a crisis of her own. Later, when she
next found herself alone, she would take her release at the behest of her own
hand whilst she’d recounted every moment of her carnal encounters. Her
conquests.
    Wetness seeped through the thin muslin of her nightdress.
David’s cock leaking against her. The feel of the heated, pulsing erection
against her made