Page 107 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“Yes, precisely,” he said with a chuckle, feeling that curl that so tempted him.
“Sleeping shouldn’t be a problem.”
“But what about the fact that I’ve fucked you? Licked your cunny? Sucked on your pretty little nipples?”
Her breath was coming faster.
“And I plan to do it all again,” he said, gently pushing Tabby against the wall and sucking kisses into her neck. “She’s going tohateyou, Tabitha, all because I…”
She’d taken his hair in hand and forced his gaze to come to hers. This confession seemed momentous, and he could see why she’d want to watch his lips say it. Tabby’s eyes dropped again, and Edward tugged on that tempting curl resting over her shoulder to bring them back up.
The problem with yanking on a wig attached in only the most temporary way is that it rather ruins the moment when it slides off, suddenly leaving a girl with her cropped locks exposed.
Edward had the wig in hand, or rather, the curl in hand and the wig dangling against the floor. Tabby covered her face in horror, her gaze darting to the mirror and then looking away.
“I’m ridiculous,” she said, eyes filling with tears. “This whole thing is ridiculous.”
“No, no,” said Edward, wrestling with the wig to get it into his hands, then trying to shove it on her head. She balked, pushing him away.
“Don’t try. Don’t try to make…make me what I’m not. I’m ridiculous. I don’t have hair and I don’t know how to dance andwe can never be friends,” she ended in a whisper.
Edward slammed the wig down on the dressing table and held Tabby’s upper arms to prevent her from bolting. “What’s the meaning of this? What are you saying?”
“Look at me,” she said, gesturing to her dress. She looked remarkably well, and he thought her hair adorable, especially now that he’d gone to the trouble of getting the lice out.
“I’ve looked my fill.”
“Don’t make me say it, Edward,” she rasped. Oh, his heart ached at the sound, but he needed to hear her so he might dispel whatever clouded her mind.
“You look lovely, Tabby.”
“I don’t, don’t lie to me! I know I resemble a lad in a dress because, well, that’s what I am! Or was, until you found me out. But I’ve been a boy for far longer than I’ve been a lady, and—”
It was too much; he couldn’t hear this a moment more, not without sliding a hand to her waist and pulling her close.
“I can’t become a courtesan overnight! Or even a woman! It’s impossible! I’m impossible!”
When Molly warned him that Tabby was delicate, he should have listened. His tailoress was an eminently sensible woman, and he’d been a fool. Only the rending of his heart could fix this mess.
Edward used the hand not at Tabby’s trim waist to cradle her neck so he might tilt her head back. He had never thought he would see her dear cheeks streaked with tears in all his years of knowing her as Tobias. But today hit something very tender indeed. Something not even public humiliation and a hard slap from an auctioneer could reach.
“Do you think me so inconstant?”
Her eyes traced his face, and he let the words hang in the air for a moment as he sought to master himself. Her tears were just too much to bear.
“It’s just that I’m not—”
He had her pressed to his waistcoat again, damn her. He didn’t want to hear a fucking word against her, especially not from her own mouth. “Gather your hems, Tabby.”
“What?” she asked.
“Lift your skirts. I’ve something to tell you, and I mean to punctuate it with my fingers.”
She brought her fine new hems up, jerky and unsure, all while he stroked the soft hairs at her nape.
“That’s it, show me your little kitty,” he said, letting his palm slide up between her thighs. She squeezed them together, trapping his fingers.
“But I have smalls on,” she said. “Molly — the Breechess — she didn’t have drawers made up, so—”
