As she stepped into the bathroom, Camille was rising from the bubbles in the tub with her backside to the door. Distinct red handprints branded her backside, and for a moment Colette felt dismay and disdain for the man who’d spanked her twin.
Who am I kidding? I watched the whole sordid display…and I felt a new fever. A new need.
She blinked. “Let—let me soothe your skin with lotion, sister. And you can tell me why you went to the shop tonight, and what happened there. And how all this humiliation and—and spanking came to pass!”
Camille peeked up from the fluffy pink towel, her face resembling the center of an open rose among its folds. “Rubio was right,” she said with a sigh. “Rutledge spread my legs on the table, after you left, and it’s been a hurricane—a volcano—of emotion and passion ever since. I can’t imagine how all of this will play out when our mystery man returns for the veiled gown he ordered. I’m beginning to believe—”
“That our swapping of husbands…of lovers…is as much our destiny as whatever changes Hadrian Swann will put into play?”
Camille nodded, her eyes wide. “I feel a storm of legendary proportion blowing in. Let’s hope we land in a safe harbor—together—as it wreaks its havoc.”
9
Once again Hadrian Swann found himself peeping shamelessly through the windows of LeChaud Soeurs, but this time he’d secreted himself in the alley alongside their shop. He had surmised from the light chatter drifting out the open window that they spent the first minutes of each day checking the work their seamstress had completed the previous evening. How their shadows tormented him as he watched the twins touch each other’s breasts and hips and curvaceous waists! Dear God, how had such an old goat like Rutledge Bentley enticed both of these luscious ladies into his household?
Not that he’d come halfway around the world because of Bentley’s taste in women—or not in these women, anyway. But as he slyly observed the way Camille and Colette checked seams and stitching…caressed each other like shadow lovers performing for his hungry eyes, Hadrian stiffened until his cock nearly prodded out of his trousers.
He stepped away from the building to regain control. Serious business had brought him here today, and while he intended to have the twins eating out of his proverbial hand by the time he left, he couldn’t let them know how he lusted after them. Not yet, anyway. He strolled down the alley and onto Regent Street, to gain admittance through their front door, as any proper client would. Above all, he must appear proper as he pried information from these pretty sisters, for his mission depended upon a seamless deceit.
Pausing at their front door, he glanced up the block to be sure Alice, their hired girl, wasn’t watching him. That one could be trouble. Hadrian rapped with the brass knocker and then listened for footfalls within.
“Just a moment, please!”
“We’re not yet open for business!”
Hadrian smiled. Their lilting voices teased at him as he imagined them hurrying back into their clothes.
The door opened just a crack and one of the twins peered out at him. “Oh my! Mr. Swann, it’s such a pleasure to see you, but—”
Whump! The door closed before he got a foot inside. Damn. He’d seen a flash of bare flesh, and endearingly mussed chestnut hair, and blue eyes that had twinkled more boldly when they saw he was at the door.
Or did he only hope this was so? He should never presume to have the upper hand over young ladies who behaved as two halves of a wholly delectable, delightful partnership. Colette and Camille LeChaud hadn’t insinuated themselves into Lord Bentley’s favor by being stupid.
When the door swung open, he beheld a lithe woman adorned in a sleek periwinkle suit that made her eyes rise like blue china moons.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bentley! Please excuse my being so early,” he crooned. “I have so anticipated seeing the designs for the gowns we discussed, I quite forgot my manners. Not to mention the early hour.”
“We were just discussing your needs, sir! Please come in!”
Saucy wench. An irresistible flirt and a fine liar, too. Hadrian stepped into the entryway of the couturier and removed his hat. As he glanced around at the tall shelves of colorful fabrics, laces, and trimmings, he didn’t speak…waited for the second twin to emerge from the back room, still buttoning her crisp pink blouse. Unless he missed his guess, this impeccably put-together woman was Camille, the designer. When she saw him, her face tightened. She covered her anxiety by grabbing a pencil and a large pad of paper.
“Mr. Swann, how lovely to see you!” she murmured. “We have indeed created designs for the white gown and the Polynesian princess costume, and we’re merely awaiting your special lady’s measurements before we begin!”
Hadrian smiled to himself as her nimble fingers flew, sketching details of a female form dressed in a white gown with her face hidden behind a veil.
“These lines, you see, will accentuate her feminine curves…”
How quickly she made the pencil whisper across the page! How demure and engrossed she looked as the features of the simple gown flowed as though she’d drawn them many times before. “You have assured me my lady’s bridal attire will be a one-of-a-kind creation—”
“A picture of originality and perfection,” Camille assured him as she completed the hem with a flourish. “Nothing looks so elegant as these simpler straight lines…a row of tiny seed pearl buttons here, to draw the eye along her bosom…have I rendered your beloved in accurate scale, sir? Do you have her bust, waist, and hip measurements? And her height?”
Hadrian pulled a slip of paper from his jacket pocket, indulging in a swift flicker of his fingertips across her fair skin. “You’ve come amazingly close, my dear. And I so appreciate the way you’ve incorporated this newer, less-complicated style, to allow her attributes to shine through.”
“And what’s her name? And have you asked for her hand yet?” The twin in blue—Colette, if he guessed correctly—held his gaze for a bold moment too long. Again today she appeared slightly rumpled. Suggestively so.
He smiled, drinking her in until she lowered her eyes. This one appeared far more daring and unconventional than her identical sister, a detail that intrigued him. “You can’t imagine what an effect these gowns will have! How she will know of my deep devotion when she sees them,” he replied enthusiastically. “Matter of fact, after asking around about your expertise and reputation, I’ve decided to order three additional gowns!” He slipped some folded bills from his pants pocket and pressed them into Colette’s palm. Her hand quivered in his—until she widened her eyes.
“Oh, please, Mr. Swann!” she exclaimed. “You need not leave another deposit! When we present our bill, you may simply pay to our account.”
“I insist, madam.” He bowed slightly, including both ladies in his gaze. “I hail from a distant land, and I want no discrepancies between our countries’ currencies to shortchange you, or—”
“And where did you say you’re from?” Camille looked up from a second sketch she’d nearly completed, batting her eyes prettily.
“The women of my village so closely resemble your sketch!” he hedged, gesturing toward her paper. “With a sari and the veil
