until these French fixtures were installed in their separate wings of the mansion. She quickly rinsed herself and then aimed the warm water up and inside, flexing as she gyrated to rinse out Heath’s seed…increasing the temperature, and then gasping as the force of the jet brought her to a sudden, intense climax. Her husband had once expressed his disgust at the sight of a pregnant woman, so by rinsing this thoroughly she was satisfying both of their preferences, wasn’t she?
She dried hastily and scurried into her dressing room before Heath could think up any more distractions. As always, Daisy awaited her with the day’s freshly pressed gown and her shoes. Her maid feigned patience, but Colette suspected the sly girl would slip into the bedroom with Heath as soon as her footsteps died away. She clattered down the marble stairway, hoping to set her appearance to rights once she reached the shop.
And there—as always—sat Camille in the vestibule, her lips twisted in a scowl as she checked her watch. She stood up with a dramatic sigh and then the heels of her stylish pumps click-lack-clicked across the floor to punctuate her anger. “Of all the days to dally with Heath when you know I have four new gowns to create for Lady Etheridge!” she sputtered. She paid the randy young footman no mind as he leered at her cleavage while handing her up into the carriage. “Honestly, Colette, I sometimes think you goad your husband into rutting with you at the last possible moment just to irritate me!”
“As it obviously has.” Colette lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow at the footman, who was fighting a smile as he shut the carriage door. “I’ll have you know I was carrying out those outlandish predictions Rubio made about volcanoes erupting. So perhaps I’ve put all his nonsense behind us now.”
Her sister settled on the seat across from her, looking perfectly coifed and petulantly pretty in her simple gown of cerise silk faille. “I’m telling you he’s right!” Her eyes widened in her flawless, china-doll face. “I can feel that upheaval he was talking about!”
“Which might account for the way you’re about to upheave from the front of your dress. Really, Camille! You look absolutely shameless this morning!” Colette teased. “Why, that new footman was ready to—”
“Never mind him! I chose this gown to see if Rutledge would even glance up from his breakfast.”
Colette settled back against her seat as the carriage rolled down the driveway. Were those tears in her twin’s voice? “And?” she prompted more gently.
Camille quickly looked out the window to focus on Briarcliffe, the imposing Bentley stronghold. “I might as well have been wearing mourning—black from head to toe with every inch of me covered! I might as well be an old crone with no teeth or—”
“I’m sorry, dear sister. Sorry I was late, and sorry you feel so neglected.”
“Invisible! Not even worth looking at, if I’m any gauge of my husband’s reaction to—”
“He’s old, Camille. Oblivious to your needs, and—” Her twin’s expression made her nip her lip. This was more serious than Camille’s usual pity fits, if her furrowed brow and tear-streaked cheeks were any indication.
“Needs?” her sister demanded in rising hysteria. “You have no idea of my needs! Why, I was so damned needy—so damned frustrated—I…I watched you this morning! Your hair’s a rat’s nest, and I know how it got that way, and I wish mine looked as raucous for the same reason!”
Colette blinked. She patted at her hair, a futile effort until they reached the couturier. “What do you mean, you watched?”
Her sister’s cheeks flared to match her bold pink gown. “I…I came upstairs, knowing what you and Heath were doing. And I saw the whole blessed thing. My God, Colette, the man’s a monster! I’ve never seen such a pole!”
“A what?”
Camille’s face flushed more deeply. “How do you accommodate all of his…it’s so long!”
As she fought a grin, Colette leaned forward, coaxing Camille to do the same. No need for their driver to catch every juicy detail of their intimate talk, after all. “How do I accommodate the length of what, dear sister?” she whispered.
Her twin swatted her cheek and then flicked the loose tendrils of hair from her face. “His cock, damn it!” she rasped. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to be—how much I ached inside for—”
“For Heath?” Colette quizzed slyly. They sat nose to nose, stretched across the carriage’s interior as they gripped each other’s hands. Camille’s frustration was so intense, so vibrant, it enveloped them both.
“For any man! Do you think I’m proud that I went to your wing to haul you out of bed and ended up gawking at you instead? There! I’ve confessed it!”
They fell back against their upholstered seats and crossed their arms.
Colette considered her sister’s admission, feeling slightly irritated and yet intrigued. While she’d been looking away from Heath’s reflection in the mirror, refusing to acknowledge how he’d triumphantly seduced her to make her late, her impish sister had been spying! Ogling! Lusting! “Where were you standing?”
“In your doorway. Looking in through the crack.”
“And Daisy didn’t stop you?”
Camille’s lips twitched. “She was watching, too. I had to swat Miss Adair’s hand away from my backside.”
So it was true! Her maid had eyes for Heath—but that was a matter to take up with Daisy at a later time. Camille was shifting in her seat like a guilty young schoolgirl…or a randy young woman whose longings had never been fulfilled. The thought almost made her pity her pretty twin, but Colette hadn’t finished her inquisition. “And how did you escape without my knowing? Those shoes make such a racket—”
“I run faster without them.”
The image of her prim, sophisticated sister racing away barefoot, to wait in the vestibule as though she were thoroughly irritated, made Colette laugh out loud. But she needed to hear more. And to demand penance. “And what did you observe? And how did it make you feel? Do tell, sister. Did we learn anything from our little foray into voyeurism?”
Irritation rippled Camille’s brow, but she recovered quickly. “I watched your facial expressions—”
“From where you stood, you were staring at my bared backside! And Heath’s!”
“And I know you were merely tolerating his advances, making all the right noises—”
“And did our noises excite you? Did you wish he were making those advances on you, taking out his selfish, arrogant needs just to prove—”
“Yes!” Camille cried. “I wanted to be the one he was pumping with that magnificent piston! That long, hard cock! Because I would welcome Heath’s invasion! Why, I nearly climaxed just watching the way he thrust into you and then pulled it out to thrust—”
“Well, maybe you should just take him!”
“Well, maybe I should!”
The carriage door swung open before either of them realized it had stopped behind the shop, and the footman slyly swept his blond hair back from his eyes. “Ladies?”
