Her Lord's Table Read Online Free PDF Page A

in pleasure.”
    “But society says…”
    He spoke with cool assertiveness. “I am not concerned with the strictures of petty-minded prudes.”
    He wouldn’t need to be, Susan thought. Everything about him spoke of a man who followed his own path, heedless of the opinions of anyone else.
    Another man took the place of the first on the table. The crowd cheered again. Winslade got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come. This spectacle begins to bore me. You and I can find much more—inventive ways to entertain ourselves.”
    She could no more deny the invitation of his outstretched hand than she could have spread a pair of wings and flown.
    He led her out and up a flight of stairs. Behind them the raucous noise of the revelries faded. By the time he pushed open the door of an elegantly furnished sitting room, only the odd pressure in her groin remained to remind Susan of the scenes being acted out below.
    Winslade gestured for her to take a seat on the leather-covered sofa. He turned to a table. Susan heard the tinkle of glass against glass. Then he sat down next to her and handed her a crystal goblet half-full of a liquid glowing amber in the flickering light of the candles.
    “I know young women do not customarily drink brandy, but I think after what you have seen tonight, we can dispense with custom.”
    He lifted his glass in salute and raised it to his mouth.
    Susan followed suit, taking a long swallow. The brandy burned its way down her throat with its own kind of fire, filling her with a delicious languor.
    A discreet scratch from outside brought Winslade to his feet. A footman opened the door and listened attentively as Winslade spoke. Winslade resumed his seat, sipping the brandy, saying nothing, just subjecting her to a slow, intense scrutiny.
    She took another drink, hoping the alcohol would slow her racing heartbeat and ease the tension tightening her nerves to quivering point.
    The door swung open again. A procession of servants arrived carrying trays laden with food. They arranged them on a table backed against the wall, then walked out.
    “You didn’t finish your meal,” Winslade said. “I don’t want you to go hungry.” He strode to the table then returned, holding a plate. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.
    “You don’t have to feed me, Lord Winslade,” she whispered.
    “It’s my pleasure,” he replied. “My name is Anthony.”
    He dug a spoon into a creamy concoction and held it to her lips, waiting silently. Her upbringing, her conscience, even her sense of self-preservation told her she should stand and walk out. He wouldn’t stop her. He’d promised she’d be safe.
    But he’d made another promise. Not with words but with the way his body leaned toward her, the way his pupils widened, the way he compelled her with the force of his presence.
    If she obeyed, she would still be safe, although safety no longer meant what she thought. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wouldn’t lead her anywhere she wasn’t willing to go. If she went with him, she knew with certainty she would be changed in ways she couldn’t yet imagine.
    She parted her lips to allow him to slide the spoon into her mouth. Before she had time to close it, he dipped his head and kissed her, his tongue exploring, tasting and sharing the sugary sweetness.
    She heard the faint clatter of the spoon falling but any thought disappeared as he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her in close, changed the angle of her head and devoured her.

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Susan had thought she understood the concept of a kiss, but nothing had prepared her for this total subsummation, this overwhelming of her senses.
    When he at last lifted his head, her dazed mind held only one thought. “More.”
    “More food?” His voice was a dark hum shivering across her sensitized skin. “Or more of this?” He closed his teeth on her earlobe.
    She whimpered. “I…I…just more.”
    He chuckled and slipped one hand out from behind her, then